


Wives and Mothers

by katedf



Series: Not Back on Friday [2]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katedf/pseuds/katedf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This sequel to "Not Back on Friday" picks up the night of Richard's return to Saint Marie, as Richard and Camille make plans for their future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home

Richard blew out a long sigh. “It _is_ good to be home.”

“Even without your luggage?” Camille teased as she snuggled closer.

“Don’t spoil the moment. I’m liming. No _We’re_ liming.” They lay contentedly silent for a while, the he said, “Wow, I’m part of a _we,_ an _us,_ a couple. I used to think it would never happen. I’ve never felt so close to anyone or so much a part of any place I’ve lived. Saint Marie is my home. And I’m not making a sacrifice to be with you. I would hate to leave here.”

“Even with the sand, and the food with eyes, and the heat?”

“Even with all of that. As long as I have you, I’m home.” Richard kissed her, and then he frowned slightly.

“Even in the dim moonlight, I can recognize that expression,” said Camille. “You’re thinking.”

“Yeah. About home. Where should we live? I know I’ve complained about the sand, but I do like being by the sea. And the privacy is lovely. But it’s a small space with a very small bathroom and an even smaller closet.”

“Let’s try it for a while. I still have the lease on my house in town, so that can be our backup plan. Or we can sort of live in both.”

“Separately? I thought—”

“Of course not separately! After work, we go to either house to make supper, depending on what we want and how complicated the cooking is.”

“Ah, kitchen. The kitchen here isn’t great, either.”

“Right. So we eat dinner in one of the houses, then spend the night here. Then an early run on the beach—you did say you wanted to run again—and I continue home to shower and change there while you shower and change here.”

“It’s rather complicated, but it could work, at least until we’re married. Then we will need to settle into one place.”

“Of course it’s complicated,” said Camille. “It’s us, after all.”

“I suppose improvements could be made here. But this house doesn’t belong to me and I don’t want to sink money—wait a minute. I was forgetting that I sold the house in Croyden. We can buy a house here. Not right away, but we should start checking the listings in case something we like becomes available.”

“Beach houses are expensive.”

“I don’t want to buy a house at the beach. I know we’d be careful parents, but I don’t want to raise kids right by the water. They can be out of your sight for a few seconds and next thing you know, they’re underwater. It’s too risky out here.”

“You want kids?”

“Yes, I suppose I do. I hadn’t thought about it, but it just seemed to follow on getting married and buying a house. That’s my suburban upbringing showing. But what do you want? Ultimately, the decision should be yours. I mean, you’re the one who’ll have to be pregnant and all that. I want to be a much more hands-on father than my dad was. But so much of the care seems to go to the mother, so if you don’t want kids, I’ll accept that decision.”

“But you want them?”

“Yes. But I’ve already got more than I ever expected to have. Just us is okay, too. One thing we have to consider is age. I’m not getting any younger, and I would like to be able to play with my kids. You know, actually run after them, not toddle along with a cane.”

“Oh, you aren’t _that_ old, Richard. And I do want kids, but not right away. I’d like to wait at least a year. Give us that time to be _us,_ and settle in with our own little routines first.”

“That makes sense, although I suspect a baby will blow our little routines to hell.”

Camille chuckled, “Probably. I’ve heard some of Juliet’s stories. I wonder what our kids will look like?”

“Impossible to guess, given our backgrounds. Your mother is much lighter than you are, so there are recessive pale genes lurking in you. It’s always the luck of the genetic lottery, but in our case, the lottery has a lot of numbers. We’ll be like a human genetics problem. I could write a paper on us for the Royal Society!”

“Who?”

“The Royal Society, an organization made up of distinguished scientists. Although, now that I think about it, one child wouldn’t really be enough. We’d need four to fill in the blocks of the Punnett square.”

“Four? You want four?” Camille squeaked.

“No, not really. It was a genetics joke. You solve genetics problems with a grid called a Punnett square, and you fill in the genes in the four blocks…never mind, not worth the time to explain right now.”

“So, not four?”

“No, not four. But I don’t want an only child. I always wished I’d had a sibling. Well, a brother, of course, when I was little. But when I was older, either brother or sister would have been welcome. I know sibs don’t always get along, but in my house, I think we would have been partners in emotional survival. God, that sounds bleak. It wasn’t as bad as that. But I did often wish I’d had a brother. You’re an ‘only.’ How do you feel about it?”

“Growing up, it didn’t matter. Because my father was gone, it was just the two of us, so I was close to Maman. And there always were other kids around to play with. But when I hit my teens, it would have been nice to have a sister. Someone to gang up with against Maman’s rules. I suppose that’s why I was so close to Aimee. She was the sister I never had.”

“So, God willing, more than one, fewer than four?”

“Yes, maybe fewer than three, although that will mess up your whatsit square…”

“Never mind the Punnett square, I’m thinking about how big a house we’re going to need!”


	2. Well Wishers

There was a very old joke that the three fastest ways to spread news were “telephone, telegraph, tell a woman.” Well, the telegraph was a thing of the past, but it occurred to Richard that he knew the fastest way. Never mind the Internet and social media. People in Honoré spread news the old-fashioned way—over back fences, while shopping at the market, while walking kids to school or the park. However they did it, they were faster than Twitter and Facebook put together. 

It had taken Richard a year to become accustomed to people greeting him on the street. In London, he’d felt anonymous. Nobody knew him or his business. He’d been alone and nobody bothered him. At first, his response to greetings was just a nod or “good morning,” but never a stop to chat. He really wanted to say “What do you want?” because in his experience, people were nice to you when they wanted something. But on Saint Marie, people were nice because they were, well, _nice._

He hadn’t noticed that the greetings changed not long after he arrived. Vendors were inclined to call out “Hello honey!” or “Mornin’, darling.” That had really taken Richard aback. He wasn’t anyone’s honey or darling. How could someone who didn’t even know him call him that? One morning, after a particularly difficult transit of the market, he complained about this when he got to the station and collapsed into his chair. Camille huffed that they were just being friendly because that’s the way people were on Saint Marie, and he should be nice in return. But later that day, she’d walked through the market and explained to people that he was _very_ English and reserved, and not used to their ways. 

After that, locals would greet him with “Good morning, Inspector!” As he began to know and buy from the food vendors, some of them would be brave and chide him about wearing a jacket on a hot day. One fruit vendor even pointed out a friend’s stall down the street and suggested Richard shop there for a “nice comfortable shirt.” Seeing Richard’s horrified look, the vendor never suggested it again.

But now word was out that the visiting English detective was staying—and marrying Camille! The news spread through the market before the vendors had finished setting up for the day. Some were astonished, others claimed they’d suspected something when Camille had run interference for him when he first arrived. 

“Well, it must be love, why else would she put up with such a stuffy type?”

“And I’ve heard how they argue. George told me she scolds him when she doesn’t like something he does.”

“And he puts up with it, so it shows he must love her. Janine says she snaps her finger and he obeys! Why else would he let her do that?”

“But Camille and the Inspector? She’s all island, and he’s… something out of that, you know, the museum full of old stuff! British Museum, that’s it. I bet they have suits of armor that are less uptight.”

“Yeah, but you know, he’s done some good things. Look at how hard he works to solve cases, even old ones. Poor Angelique, grieving over her daughter so bad, and he solved Delilah’s murder. I bet Angelique is smiling on him.”

“Yeah, you’ve got something there. Maybe Angelique got Erzulie to help.”

“And don’t forget about Fidel. Juliet told her mother, who told my sister, that Fidel couldn’t just apply to be a sergeant. He had to be recommended, and the Inspector did that for him.”

“Nobody’s supposed to know, but we think he made a big donation to the wildlife sanctuary. My cousin August’s wife volunteers there. Right after Benjamin Sammy was arrested, they got a large donation. And then Inspector Poole shows up and asks about fostering a baby goat, the one Benjamin had been bottle feeding. He didn’t want to take it home, just pay for its care.”

“Is that where they got the idea for the fostering program? My daughter’s friend was given a foster animal for her birthday. They go to the sanctuary and visit it.”

“I guess he really has become one of us. Just shows, you never know about people.”

By the time Richard walked through the market, EVERYONE knew. 

“Congratulations, Inspector!”

“Mornin’, Inspector, I hear there’s good news!”

“Congratulations!”

And then, before Richard had a chance to say anything, the entire market erupted in applause. Richard turned scarlet and had no way to escape, as people converged on him to shake his hand, and in the case of one fruit vendor, hug him. 

“Get your hands off him, he’s MINE!” 

The crowd parted, and Camille walked up to Richard, accepting a few hugs of her own on the way. She turned to the flirtatious fruit vendor and laughingly said, “I mean it, hands off, Violette, go chase the single men.” 

That comment got a laugh from the crowd, and they dispersed. Camille linked her arm through Richard’s and walked him to the station.

“Oh, God,” he said, sinking onto the bench on the porch. “Please tell me they’ve got that out of their systems.”

“I think so. They mean well, Richard. You should be pleased that they’re so happy to have you stay here. We like to celebrate, you should know that by now.”

“I know. It was just a bit overwhelming. The streets of Croyden didn’t exactly erupt in applause and cheers when I arrived there.”

“Well, that’s the good and bad of a small island. Everybody knows everything about everybody. Try to think of it as a huge family. It’s like you just got hundreds of new relatives!”

“What do you mean they know everything?”

“Well,” Camille purred in his ear. “Perhaps not _everything._ ”

-o-o-o-o-

“So you were right,” Cecile Patterson smiled at her husband.

“And how often am I _not_ right?”

“Goodness,” she replied. “It’s such a rarity that I absolutely cannot remember the last time you were wrong.”

“You know, dear, you would sound more like a devoted wife if you were perhaps just a bit less sarcastic. But when I saw the paperwork for his permanent transfer, I could think of only one reason he’d choose to stay here.”

“But Camille? I know you said they’d been working together better lately, but still…”

“You weren’t at La Kaz when she found out he hadn’t returned on schedule. If you had seen her face, you’d have known. That’s why I was pleased to send her to England on prisoner escort. I thought if anyone could get him to come back here, she could.”

“You used her as bait?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Ha! Bait, indeed. You were playing Cupid.” Cecile kissed her husband. “You can be very sweet, Selwyn, even if you don’t want anyone to know. I suspect the Inspector is sweet, too, underneath that reserve. I can understand the attraction in that. You know, seeing the softie underneath the gruff exterior.”

-o-o-o-o-

As Fidel and Dwayne did an afternoon patrol through the market, they were besieged with questions.

“Hey, Dwayne, what do you know?”

“Fidel, come talk to me!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Dwayne laughed and said, “We don’t know any more than you do, so no point in asking.”

They took refuge in the shade of La Kaz. Catherine raised her eyebrows.

“No thanks,” said Fidel. “We’re still on duty.”

Dwayne rolled his eyes and sighed. A cold one would be really nice around now.

“I heard some of the calling,” said Catherine. “Dwayne, I think your reputation as a source of information has been hurt.”

“Yeah, I know. When she went to London, I saw how distracted she was. But the Chief, well,” he shrugged.

“He’s very private. I think the congratulations this morning embarrassed him. Camille had to rescue him from Violetta,” added Fidel.

“Yeah, well, you know Violette,” said Dwayne with a laugh.

“That isn’t nice!” Catherine chided the officer. “She’s just friendly. At least you can escape to the station. People have been calling me all day. I am so tired of hearing ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Even if I had been sure, it wasn’t my news to tell.”

“You were excited about it last night,” said Fidel. “Any second thoughts?”

“No. Camille stopped by this morning, practically glowing. She’s happy and they’re planning to stay here. And when I asked about grandchildren, she said not to rush her and that they wanted to get married first. So that sounds hopeful.”


	3. Wedding Woes

“What does that mean?” Camille stood in the middle of the living room of her house, hands on hips, glaring at Richard.

“Not bothered means I don’t have a preference. Whatever flowers you like will be fine with me.”

“Don’t you care?”

“There is no way to answer that question without getting myself into trouble.”

“So you don’t care about our wedding?”

Richard sighed. The wedding was spiraling out of control and Catherine was making Camille crazy. “It isn’t that I don’t care. I care about different things. What matters to me is that we are getting married. _How_ we do it matters less, as long as it’s legal. It’s only one day. I’m more interesting in thinking about all the days that follow.”

“But it’s our _wedding!"_ Camille wailed.

“Yes, and I promise to show up and I promise to say _I do._ That’s the groom’s job. The bride gets to make all the decisions. And as this whole thing has progressed, I’ve begun to see why. It’s a warm-up for the wife taking over the couple’s decisions. The man gets used to saying ‘Whatever you want, dear,’ and next thing he knows she’s running his life.”

“That isn’t funny!”

“Well, neither is the nervous breakdown you’re working yourself up for. We were going to have a small quiet wedding, and then your mother started buying those bloody wedding magazines. I understand that this is a big deal for women. Little girls play at being brides and dress their dolls as brides, and probably their pets, too. The thing is, Camille, little boys do _not_ play at being grooms. We don’t grow up dreaming about weddings.”

“So you don’t care about our wedding?”

“I care about _you._ I care about _us._ As for the wedding, my primary concern is that it makes you happy. But you’re getting caught up in too many details. I mean, do you really care if your flowers are the same as the ones Beyoncé had at her wedding?”

“You don’t even know who she is.”

“Yes, I do. I googled her. But that isn’t the point. What do you really want? If I were to give you carte blanche to make every decision, tell me what you want our wedding to be like.”

“At first I wanted a wedding on the beach, but Father Chevalier said we have to get married in a church.”

“Okay, here’s a decision to make. From what I’ve seen of weddings on Saint Marie, an Anglican will do a beach wedding. So, Catholic ceremony in church or Anglican on the beach?”

“The church isn’t such a bad idea. And Maman really wants it.”

“Camille, this is our wedding, not Maman’s.”

“I know. But I think your mother would feel better if we got married in a church.”

“Mum won’t be there. What do _you_ want?”

“Church. It does mean that you’ll have to have a sort of interview with Father Chevalier.”

“All right. I’m a baptized Christian, so I’m allowed to marry you in church. Do you want a Mass and the whole thing because I’m not sure how that would work with me being C of E.”

“No, just the ceremony is fine. I’ll get us on the church calendar.”

“Good, we’re making progress.” Richard spied a pad and took out a pen. As he made notes he said, “Too bad you don’t have a whiteboard at home. Still, this will do.” 

Camille thought it was amusing to see Richard approach their wedding with the same techniques he used to solve a murder. To be fair, she and her mother had scribbled their way through several pads. She’d almost dragged the station’s whiteboard to La Kaz in an effort to save paper. 

Richard looked up from his list. He’d told Camille to make the decisions and he’d go along, but there were a few items that did bother him. “I suppose we should talk about vows. Do you want to write our own?”

Seeing Richard cringe as he asked, Camille said, “No.”

“Thank you. When you graduate from university, you go to a spate of weddings. I heard some truly mawkish vows at some of them. So I’m pleased to use the standard vows.”

“But I will not say _obey.”_

“Not much of a surprise there,” Richard smirked. “I believe the way around that is usually ‘love, honor, and cherish.’ Will that do?”

“Yes. That’s easy to promise, as I do love, honor, and cherish you.”

“And the less said about obedience the better. So that’s vows sorted. Next? Please, not the flowers.”

“Hmm, we have agreed to have the reception at La Kaz.”

“And that’s fine with me. But is your mother sure that she wants to spend our wedding day cooking? Is that a proper job for the mother of the bride?”

“She really wants to do it. You have to understand, cooking is Maman’s way of nurturing and loving people. I know you hated the soup, but the fact that she made it for you when you were sick was her way of showing she wanted to help you get better. The roast beef dinner was thanking you for solving Delilah’s murder after all those years. And I like the idea of Maman giving a party for us. She’ll get help, so it isn’t like she’ll be doing all the work on her own. I know she has already ordered the wedding cake. Wedding cakes here are dark fruit cakes laced with rum. It takes a while for the rum to soak in, so it has to be ordered well before the wedding.”

“That’s like our groom’s cake. In England couples often have two cakes. A fruit cake is the groom’s cake and a sponge cake is the bride’s cake.”

“Should I have Maman get a bride’s cake, too?”

“Only if you want one. Just the fruitcake will be fine. How much rum goes into it?”

“Ohhhh, plenty.” Camille giggled.

“I suppose the dinner menu will be a lot of shellfish,” Richard said resignedly.

“Yes. Curried goat is traditional, but Maman will want to do something fancier. I think she will make something non-seafood for you. Or we could just behead your seafood. And I may as well tell you now, there will be music and dancing.”

“Oh, God.”

“A wedding in the Caribbean is a party, Richard. A celebration. Maman will sort out the music. I know that you hate to be the center of attention like that, so it should make you feel better to know that another Caribbean tradition is to leave the couple alone for the next week.”

“Don’t Caribbean couples go on a honeymoon?”

“Yes, but back when travel was less available and people couldn’t afford it, the honeymoon was spent somewhere that the couple would be left alone.”

“We haven’t talked about a honeymoon. With us working together, getting time off together is going to be difficult. In a way, London was our honeymoon. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy another.”

“I know what you mean about London. You almost said that, didn’t you? The morning you proposed?”

“Yes, now that I think of it, I did nearly slip. All right, we’ll have to think about a honeymoon. I’ll speak to the Commissioner about a week off. I don’t think we can have more than that.”

Richard’s pad now had two lists. To Do list had items about the church calendar, permission for time off, and choice of a honeymoon location. Fortunately, the Decided list was getting longer, largely because Catherine had taken responsibility for the reception. Well, perhaps that was fortunate. It would depend on the menu and the volume of the music.

Camille interrupted his musing. “What else?”

“We haven’t talked about best man or bridesmaids.”

“Traditional Caribbean weddings don’t have them.”

“Who holds the rings and does the toasts? In England, there’s a whole sequence of toasts. I’m trying to remember. Best Man, then Groom, then Bride’s Father—oh, um…”

“It’s all right, Richard. I don’t need my father here to give me away. The traditional thing would be for us to walk to church together.”

“But I’d see you before the ceremony. Isn’t that supposed to be bad luck?”

“When did you develop a superstitious streak?”

“I’m not superstitious. But lots of people around here are.”

“We don’t have that superstition. But we can do Caribbean traditions or European traditions. Mix them as we choose. What do you want?”

“I think I want a best man. Someone to stand up with me, as we say in England. I was thinking about Fidel. It’s good to have a married man’s support for this. Bridesmaids or not I leave up to you. And, um, I’d really prefer that we not walk to church together. I want to stand there and watch you walk up the aisle. I, um, well, I suppose it’s silly…”

“What? Tell me, Richard.”

“I like the whole not seeing you before the wedding thing. And then there you are, walking towards me, _choosing_ me. I’m not explaining it well, but it’s a part of the wedding that I think is nice. Of course, it does leave you the opportunity to get cold feet and bolt. If we walked to church together, I could keep a firm hold on you.”

“Ha! You think you could hold me if I wanted to run away? Didn’t I once tell you that I could probably take you in a fist fight?”

“You’re right. You’d flatten me with one punch. Another reason for us not to walk to church together. If you decide to dump me, I’d rather my humiliation not take place in the middle of the street.”

“Oh, Richard, I’m not going to dump you. I love you.” Camille kissed him to emphasize her point. He seemed to need rather a lot of convincing, but she said that she would convince him more thoroughly when they’d finished the lists.

“Right,” he sighed. “Bridesmaids?”

“No. If Aimee were still alive…”

“I know.” Richard squeezed her hands, unconsciously repeating the “supportive” behavior that he had tried all those months ago. 

“And there isn’t anyone else that I’m so close to. Anyway,” she said with a giggle, “I don’t want to be upstaged.”

“Impossible!”

“That’s sweet, Richard. But it happens. Don’t you remember the royal wedding? The Duchess of Cambridge looked lovely, but the next day, everyone was talking about Pippa’s ass!”

“You know, I have heard that most women consider bridesmaid dresses to be horrible. Do brides do that on purpose, so that they aren’t upstaged?”

“Maybe,” Camille shrugged. “I’ve never been a bridesmaid, so I haven’t thought about it much.”

“So you’ll just walk up the aisle alone? That seems unfair. I’ll have support, but you won’t.”

Camille giggled, “You make it sound like a duel, where we’ll need seconds.”

“Seriously. What about that walk? I think it would be nice if you had someone to escort you.” Richard smirked, “You know, so you don’t bolt.”

“We discussed that already. Put that on the Decided list. She won’t bolt. Write it down!”

“Seriously, Camille. Honestly, I’m being serious this time. Who would you like to ask to walk you up the aisle?”

“Well, if you’re asking Fidel to be best man, what if I ask Dwayne to give me away? He is sort of like a big brother sometimes. I thought about asking the Commissioner, but his uniform would upstage me.”

“Dwayne is a nice choice. But they can’t wear their uniforms. Imagine standing up there in front of Father Chevalier with two uniformed officers flanking us. We’d look like we were being forced to get married!”

“I think they’ll be just as happy not to be in uniform. But that does bring us to the subject of clothing.”

“Oh, God, you aren’t going to make me wear a dinner suit or tailcoat, are you?”

“No. In fact less formal is better than more formal. You do need to get some clothing more appropriate for the climate anyway, so please get a light-colored tropical-weight suit.”

“Okay, added to the To Do list. I know I’m not allowed to know about the dress, so that has to be your decision.”

“I’ve been looking, and I’ve got it down to a few choices. I’m waiting for y—Maman to look at them before I decide.”

“I think that’s the list, except for the dreaded flowers, which started this whole conversation.”

“You were right,” Camille sighed. “The flowers don’t matter. We just need a few arrangements for the church and my bouquet. And flowers for my hair. There’s a way they do them that works with the veil. I’ll work it out with the florist, based on what’s available. And Maman will decorate La Kaz, so we don’t need to decide about flowers there.”

Richard held out the pad for Camille. “Have we covered it all?”

“Yes, I think so. I can’t believe it! Maman and I have been agonizing over stuff for weeks, and you just helped me sort out the whole wedding in an afternoon! I hate to admit it, but sometimes logic, reasoning, and organization actually do solve problems! And now I’ll have more time for other, better ways to spend my time!”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard sighed contentedly. “I’m glad I was able to free your time for other activities.”

Camille snuggled closer, “Me, too. This was much better than arguing over wedding plans.”

“Mmm, much better. I don’t want to talk about flowers when I can make love to my own flower, my beautiful Camellia. Ma belle fleur. When we get a house, we’ll have to plant camellias in the garden. Now that I think about it, I do have a suggestion for wedding flowers. You should carry camellias in your bouquet.”

Camille sat up suddenly and said, “My bouquet! I was supposed to go over flowers with Maman this afternoon.”

“What time? Is she coming over here? How soon?” Richard sat up and looked around frantically for a garment he could put on quickly.

Camille smiled, “Relax, Richard. I’m supposed to go to La Kaz. Maman has promised not to show up at either house without warning. She wants us to be free to be spontaneous.”

“Oh, God, I’m not sure I can ever be spontaneous again, knowing that your mother knows we’re being spontaneous.”

“Oh, I think I can convince you to be _spontaneous_ again. But not right now. I really should go.”


	4. Mother of the Groom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, one of MEP's predictions came true...

Helen Poole read the email and looked at the pictures. She was touched that Camille was trying to include her in the wedding planning. Often, the mother of the groom was given little say. She was pleased that they were having a proper church wedding. Camille’s description of Richard’s determination to plan the wedding in one sitting was amusing. Men just didn’t get it. The planning was supposed to be part of the fun. Of course, her wedding had been small and quick. Probably just as well. George would have complained about too much fuss. She scrolled through the pictures again, and started her reply.

>   
>  Oh, Camille, the dresses all are lovely! I must confess that my taste runs to what people call a “meringue,” all poufy and frilly, something Cinderella would wear. Your choices look more modern, which is as it should be. I like the one with the lace jacket. I know that churches have become more relaxed about what a bride may wear, but some wedding gowns look more like dresses for half-naked celebrities on a red carpet, not something to be worn in church!  
>   
>  Sorry, I know that sounds stuffy. But the jacket is demure for church, and then you can remove it for later. Plus, I do think a wedding dress should have some lace on it. Oh dear, now I sound like something out of Jane Austen (there’s a comment in Emma about a “shocking lack of satin”)  
>   
>  I do understand why you don’t want a train. Walking from church to your reception could ruin a train. Plus it would make the dress too heavy for your hot weather. Speaking of the walk, I can’t believe you convinced Richard to parade though the town! You’ve been good for him, Camille—it’s quite a transformation from running away from his own birthday party to celebrating his wedding so publicly. Well done, and THANK YOU! Now if you could just get him to call or email his mother more often, you would be a miracle worker.  
>   
>  One more comment on walking. Have you walked in the dresses? Think about how the dress moves as you walk. Or dance. Richard will tell you that he can’t/won’t dance, but he DOES know how. They were taught basic ballroom dancing at school, for when they had “socials” with a girls’ school. Nothing sexy or Latin, of course—the only thing Latin at school was the language.  
>   
>  Thank you for sending the pictures. I’m sure you’ll look lovely in whichever one you choose. And more to the point, I know that Richard will think so, too. I don’t know how to tell you how pleased I am that you two are together. He’s been alone for too long, and, oh gosh! Now I need to dry my eyes.  
>  Love to you both,  
>  Helen  
> 

Helen saved the pictures to her “Camille” folder. The selfies Camille had been sending her were already in the folder. The sequence was unmistakable, as Richard’s face became more relaxed and his smile wider with each new picture. Helen smiled at the pictures of Richard’s house. She hadn’t shown them to George. He’d said that people in the Caribbean “probably lived in shacks.” Even George’s idea of a shack wouldn’t include a tree growing through the front room!

-o-o-o-o-

“NO! Nononono!” Camille slammed her laptop shut.

“What?” asked Richard, standing behind Camille. “I can’t read an email from my own mother?”

“Not this one. It’s about my dress. I sent her some pictures and asked her opinion. I don’t want you to see or read anything about the dress. We agreed, you wouldn’t see it until I walk down the aisle.”

“It’s kind of you to include Mum like that, but I’m not sure her input would be valuable. Her taste tends to be a bit twee, not your style at all.”

“I do intend to make my own choice, but you’re her only child and she has so little chance to participate. I wanted to share this with her. Um, what does _twee_ mean?”

“Hmm, that’s tough to define. Sweet, overly so. Exaggeratedly dainty. I think Americans say _cutesy._ Does that help?”

“Then, yes, her taste is twee. She said she would choose something poufy.”

“What does that mean? I mean, I know the word in slang context regarding homosexuals, but not in terms of dresses.”

“Not P-O-O-F. P-O-U-F-Y. Big skirt, lots of flounces and tulle—”

“What’s tulle?”

“Sheer fabric used in veils and layers of overskirts. Oh, just think Cinderella and you’ve got the idea. Or Diana’s wedding dress. THAT was poufy, even without layers of tulle.”

Richard was glazing over, and Camille laughed, “Aren’t you glad you asked? But your mother did give me some good advice.”

“Which was?”

“To walk in the dresses to see how they move, for walking in church so I’ll look graceful walking down the aisle. And it should move well for dancing. She said it should look good for when we zouk.”

Richard looked stricken, then realized Camille was winding him up. “My mother has no idea what zouk is, and if she did, she would know that I don’t dance like that.”

“I’ll teach you,” Camille said provocatively. She stood and wrapped her arms around Richard’s neck, pressing close against him. “You know the moves. You’ve just never used them standing up and to music.”

-o-o-o-o-

Helen waited for an evening when George appeared to be in a good mood. He was relaxing with an after-dinner brandy when she approached him with a calendar in hand. 

“They’ve chosen a date.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s only a few months away, but if you ask soon, perhaps you could get the time off.”

“Whatever for?” George Poole looked at his wife as if she was making no sense.

“To go to the wedding, of course.”

“No.”

“George, why not?”

“Because I am not going to spend hard-earned money and holiday time to go to some godforsaken island to see your idiot son throw his life away.”

“He’s your son, too.”

“Yes, I know. You’ve reminded me often enough.”

“George! He’s our only child, how will it look when there’s nobody from his side of the family?”

“I don’t care. He chose to go back there. I see no reason to follow him.”

-o-o-o-o-

Camille sighed as she looked up from her laptop. “You should call your mother.”

“Why? What’s happened?” Richard set down his book

“She’s upset about the wedding.”

“I don’t understand. She was so pleased when we told her we’re getting married.”

“Your father says they aren’t coming.”

“I didn’t expect that they would.”

“She wants to come and he says they can’t. Call her tomorrow morning our time, when he’ll be at work and she’ll be home.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you have to! I’ll be there and talk to her after you do if you’d like. But you should be the one to call her. Tell her you understand. She feels bad that there will be nobody from your family at the wedding. I forwarded the email to you. Read it before you call her.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard was on his third cup of tea when he braved the email. He sighed, would his father NEVER let up? George Poole had fed, clothed, and educated his son, always done “the right thing,” whatever the hell that meant. But he could be a right bastard at times.

Richard tapped at his phone and listened to the ring. His mother picked up quickly.

“Hello, Mum.”

Pause

“I know, Camille forwarded the email. I wrote an answer, but I wanted to call you, too.”

While he listened to his mother talk, he noticed that Camille was rolling her eyes. But hey, it would do his mother no good to know that he’d been nagged into calling.

“Mum, it’s okay. Honestly, we do understand.”

Pause

“Yes it is. But we both knew he’d say no.”

Uncomfortable pause

“Mum, yes, we would love to have you there, but I don’t think me saying that is going to help. Not when Dad says no.”

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose and bit his lip. Camille knew that look; she only saw it when he was feeling hurt.

Mum, please don’t—”

Pause

“Mu-um,” Richard whined as he said it.

Richard was now rubbing is forehead. Camille took pity on him and held out her hand. She wiggled her fingers to get his attention and he placed the phone in her hand.

“Helen?” Camille interrupted.

_“Camille? Oh, I’m so sorry! I know I’ve upset him by crying.”_

“He’ll be all right. I wish there was something we could do. I know George is Richard’s father, and I’m supposed to be nice to my in-laws, but I’d like to give him a good talking-to.”

_“There’s nothing you can do, Camille. I’ve asked twice, and if I ask again, I’ll still be told no. Just take lots of pictures.”_

“Of course we will. And maybe we can figure out a way to live-stream it from somebody’s mobile. Richard might know how to set that up. Or we’ll find someone who knows how. I know it isn’t as good as being here, but it’s something.”

_“Thank you, dear. You’re a treasure. Tell Richard I’m sorry I cried. I love you both. Bye.”_

“We love you, too. Bye.”

-o-o-o-o-

Later that day, Camille told Catherine that Richard’s parents were definitely not coming to the wedding.

“Really, Maman, I wish you could meet him. Remember how stiff and cranky Richard was when he first got here?”

“He’s still cranky.”

“Maman!”

“Yes, ma chère, I do remember. You’ve done wonders for him.”

“Well, compared to his father, Richard as we first knew him was Mother Theresa! That man needs a dose of French temper. I managed to behave when I met him because I didn’t want to upset Richard. But if I am ever alone with George Poole, I’ll tell him what I really think. I’d love to set you on him, Maman. You have even less patience with that kind of overbearing swine than I have!”

“I’d rather do something to help Richard’s mother. From what you’ve said, she sounds sweet. I was hoping I would get to meet her.”

“I know. I sent her flowers to cheer her up. It was the only thing I could think of. It isn’t much. I thought I might send her a gift certificate for a day spa, something to make her feel special. I emailed Jenny, the nice young woman from Manchester, for suggestions.”

“That’s a lovely idea. I’ll see if I can think of something.”

“She’s his mother, Maman. I know how I’d feel if you couldn’t be at the wedding. Richard acts like it’s okay, but I know it hurts him. So I need you to be mother to both of us.”

“I understand.” Catherine hugged her daughter and whispered, “I like being a mother. I think I’ll like being a grandmother, too.”

Camille sighed. Her mother never missed an opportunity to press her point. And somewhere at the back of her mind, Camille knew that she wanted her mother to be a grandmother, too.


	5. A Surprise Wedding Gift

Richard’s mobile rang while he and Camille were having a “discussion” about why they were late for work.

“I still don’t see why it’s my fault you fell asleep,” said Camille.

“You know I get drowsy after sex, and you were in the shower for ages.”

“It isn’t my fault your shower is so pathetic.”

“No, but did you have to take up residence in—” Richard stopped talking and pulled out his mobile. “Poole.”

_“Good morning. Bowman here.”_

“Good morning sir.” They had stopped climbing the steps to the station, and Richard could see that Camille was curious. He mouthed “Bowman” and she nodded.

_“We’ve got a situation on Grand Cayman.”_

“Oh?”

_“Yes. It looked like a diving accident, but the detective in charge of the case doesn’t think it was an accident. The victim was on holiday with his business partner. They were in investments. We’ve got a forensic accountant looking at their records, which they say are incomplete. We’d like you to look at the timeline and the evidence.”_

“So am I going to Grand Cayman?”

_“No. We’re going to try to do this one with a video conference. Can you arrange that for later today?”_

“I’ll call government house and see if the conference room is available.”

_“Excellent. Let me know what time works for you.”_

“Right. Oh, by the way, did you get my email requesting time off?”

_“Yes, your honeymoon. Only a week?”_

“That’s all Camille can get, considering how long we were away in England.”

_“So where are you going?”_

“TBD.”

_“Oh, come on. You can tell me. I won’t cancel your reservation or do some other prank.”_

“No, honestly. We haven’t decided.”

_“It isn’t that far off, you should have booked something by now.”_

“I know. Couples from all over come to the Caribbean for a honeymoon. But when you live in a tropical paradise, where do you go? We’ve eliminated London and Paradise. We want neutral territory.”

_“Good Lord, Poole! It’s a honeymoon, not a debate or peace negotiation.”_

Richard sighed, “Everything is a negotiation.”

Camille glared at Richard, who grinned at her.

_“Well, good luck.”_

“Thanks. I’ll let you know when I can do that call.”

Richard ended the call and resumed climbing the steps.

“What’s going on?”

“Possible case for SOCA on Grand Cayman. We’re going to try to handle it by video conference, so I’ll be at Government House a good part of the day.”

“Ooh, I get to be in charge!”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can sit at my desk or eat my jelly babies.”

“Spoilsport!”

-o-o-o-o-

The station was quiet. Camille sent Fidel to check out an attempted break-in. Dwayne spent the time finishing a report from the previous day’s case, and Camille explored the Internet, researching honeymoon destinations. 

Camille wanted to go to Paris, but with only a week, too much of the time would be spent in transit. That same concern had ruled out anywhere else on The Continent. England was out of the question, too, although Richard had brought up the idea of a caravan in Clacton. They could go to another island, but that didn’t seem special enough for such an occasion. They had discussed a cruise, but there was nothing that matched their dates, except a “barefoot windjammer” cruise that looked good to Camille, but was rejected by Richard because the cabins were small and there wouldn’t be much privacy. Renting a boat was discarded because neither of them had much sailing experience. Actually, Richard had none and Camille had only a little.

She was beginning to think they would end up with a traditional Sainte Marie honeymoon, a stay-at-home week with a promise of no disturbances. Her research was interrupted by a phone call. Then she had to make several more calls. When Fidel returned to the station, she told them she’d be at home for a few hours, but they should call her if something happened. They were not to tell Richard where she was until he returned to the station.

-o-o-o-o-

Honeymoon worries were forgotten in the excitement of the arrival of the boxes from London. Camille arranged for a truck to collect the boxes at the freight harbor and deliver them to her house. Knowing how small the beach shack was, her house was the better option. 

When the truck arrived at her house, she was shocked to see a huge blob of plastic. Everything had been stacked on a pallet and shrink-wrapped. And it looked a lot larger than she expected. The driver handed her the documents that accompanied the shipment. She scanned the list, and yes, it was all theirs. 

The men cut the wrap and started to carry things into the house. They even helped Camille rearrange some furniture. Then they left her to unpack. Camille stood surrounded by boxes, wondering where to start. She was glad that Richard had been organized. At least the boxes were labeled. She opened a few and started to pile the books neatly so that she could see the titles on the spines. There were clearly more books than shelf space. 

She carried some books into the spare bedroom and realized she needed to dust before she could stack the books. And then she was distracted by the other packages stowed in the room. Richard had unwrapped Uncle Richard’s paintings to make sure they’d arrived in good condition and then rewrapped them until they could decide about where to hang them. Camille sighed. _Another_ decision to make. Getting married was becoming complicated. 

Richard was right. Everything was a negotiation. Not that they couldn’t agree on most decisions. But it was the process of looking at alternatives and coming to the best conclusion that was wearing thin. Each night it was a decision about which house to sleep in, were they going to run in the morning, and were the right clothes there for the next day. Richard would have given up the beach shack without question if she asked him to, but they liked the privacy and the ocean—wading for her, gazing for him. 

And then there were the slightly longer range decisions, like the honeymoon. She tried to push that out of her mind as she looked around the spare bedroom, and wondered where they could put all those books. Or maybe they shouldn’t unpack the books at all. They’d said they would look for a house “eventually,” but that round of decisions was something they planned to face after the wedding. They had sort of given themselves a year to find a house. But maybe they should be looking sooner rather than later. Perhaps the “staycation” honeymoon would be a good idea. Encircle the beach shack with police caution tape and just spend a week in bed. The money they would have spent on a honeymoon could be put toward the cost of a house. 

Camille shook her head. One decision at a time, and today’s decision was about the books. She had made a little progress when her mobile rang. She looked at the caller ID and answered.

“Richard! How are you doing?”

_“We’re finished for now. Long story, I’ll tell you later. How are things at the station?”_

“Quiet.”

_“Should I stop on the way back to get anything for supper?”_

Oh God, yet another decision. “I don’t know. Let’s see what Maman is cooking tonight.”

_“You sound tired. Is everything all right?”_

“Yes, fine. Are you coming back to the station now?”

_“Yes. Be there soon. I love you.”_

“Love you, too.”

Camille ended the call and surveyed the mess. Later, she thought, and headed back to the station.

-o-o-o-o-

Camille got back to the station just minutes before Richard arrived. He told them about the case, and how there appeared to be two sets of financial records, one false with a healthy balance of funds, and the other showing that one partner had been skimming money from the business. 

“So you don’t have to go to Grand Cayman, then?” asked Dwayne.

“Probably not. The video thing works well. I just hope nobody in London realizes that I don’t have to be here for it to work.”

“Why?” asked Fidel. “What would they do?”

“I don’t know. Send me back to London, perhaps.”

“Oh, no!” Fidel looked stricken.

“It probably won’t happen, so don’t worry about it.”

-o-o-o-o-

Because it was a slow afternoon, the team quit work a bit early and went to La Kaz for a drink. Richard and Camille stayed for supper. Catherine spent some time at their table discussing wedding plans, and Richard glazed over.

After Catherine left, Camille waved her hand in front of Ricahrd’s face. “Hello? Did you hear any of that?”

“No, sorry.”

“What’s wrong, Richard? You seem preoccupied. Are you worried they’ll pull you back to the SOCA office in London? I did say I’d go to London if it came to that.”

“No. It isn’t that. It’s… I don’t want to talk about it here. Later, I promise.”

As soon as they left La Kaz, Camille said, “Now, what’s going on? Is it SOCA?”

“No. Well, sort of. I’m part SOCA and part Honoré. We live partly at my house and partly at yours. I feel fragmented, like my life has no order to it. I shouldn’t have blamed you for making us late to work. You _were_ in the shower a very long time, but—”

“It’s a horrible shower, Richard! It’s almost impossible to wash my hair.”

“I know, I know. Shh, I am not blaming you. I’m blaming my house.” They started up the hill toward Camille’s house and Richard continued. “I know we said we’d think about a house of our own and take our time looking. But maybe we should start looking seriously. Your lease has only a few months on it, and we can’t possibly live full-time in the beach shack. Plus, I’m not sure I’m entitled to housing since I’m technically on SOCA’s books. At some point, the Commissioner may evict me.”

“He wouldn’t throw you out on the street!”

“No, but he could point out that I need to pay rent or something like that. So much around here is based on a wink and a nod and nothing definite. My life is too messy, too much changing at once.”

Camille came to a sudden stop at the path to her house. 

Seeing the stricken look on her face, Richard took her hands in his and said, “No, ma Fleur, no! I _like_ the changes that are coming to my life. Honestly, I do. It just gets a bit overwhelming at times.”

“I understand, Richard. It’s just that you said messy. And the house is a mess. I wanted to surprise you, but I couldn’t unpack everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your surprise.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Come see.” Camille unlocked her door and they walked into the living room.

“What is all of this?”

“Your books.”

“Why didn’t they look like so much in London?”

“I know, I felt overwhelmed when they arrived. But come see your surprise.” Camille led Richard into the spare bedroom and turned on the light.

Richard was speechless. There, crowded into the small room were his barrister’s bookcases. Camille had propped up his uncle’s paintings on top, using a few books to keep them from slipping out of place. 

“Camille, I can’t believe this! But how?”

“Bryan arranged to get them into the same shipment as the books. I knew you were reluctant to leave them behind.”

“It must have cost a fortune to ship them!”

“It’s my wedding present to you. You hadn’t proposed yet when I arranged to ship them, so it wasn’t a wedding present then. But I wanted you to have them.”

“I’m sorry they crowd everything.”

“That’s all right. I like that they’re here. We’ve moved some clothes and small items into each other’s houses, but this is the first big stuff that we’ve put together. It feels good, seeing our lives come together.”

Richard pulled her into an embrace and said, “You’re incredible. Nobody has ever been so thoughtful, or taken care of me the way you do. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Camille snuggled against Richard’s shoulder, and he rested his head on hers. They stood there like that for a while, then she felt him suddenly raise his head. “What is it?”

“I have no idea what to get you for a wedding present.”

“Actually, I do. But you need to be sitting down when I tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't decided where to send them on a honeymoon. I thought about Paris, but I remember reading about how long the trip is, and I don't want to make them sit in a plane and then be jet lagged.


	6. Houses and Chattel

Camille led Richard to the sofa, picking up a pad and pen along the way. 

“Uh-oh,” he said. “I see a list coming on.”

“Remember what you said while we were walking here tonight? That we should start looking for a house soon? I had the same thought this afternoon when I was looking at the boxes of books. This morning you said everything is a negotiation.”

“I was teasing about the negotiations.”

“I know. But it is kind of true. Where will we cook supper? Where will we sleep? Did you remember the right clothes? Living in two places is adding to the stress of the wedding. So…”

“So?” Richard looked confused.

“You can buy us a house for a wedding present!”

“You don’t want much, do you?”

“Seriously, Richard. I don’t need a gift. But we should start looking for a house. So let’s make a list of the things we want in a house. Seeing your books and bookcases made me realize it has to have a library, a refuge for you from the noise of our ten kids.”

“Ten?” Richard squeaked.

Camille nudged his shoulder with hers. “I was teasing. I think we need four bedrooms. One for us, two for our children, and a fourth to make into your library.”

“Two bathrooms,” said Richard. “The master bath has to have a huge shower. This other bath can have a pokey little shower, but I want us to have plenty of room.”

“Larger kitchen than I have here,” said Camille. “Not huge, but enough space to work in and for a family to eat in.”

“Are we thinking outside our budget?” Richard asked. 

“I don’t know. One thing to consider is the location. You know the villas, like the one Anderson rented, the ones with the great views?”

“Yes.”

“That kind of view is worth a lot. If we don’t need a cliff-hugging monster house with a view of the sea, we’ll pay a lot less. There are two kinds of houses on Saint-Marie. There are the big show houses, which often are used as high-end rentals, and then there are the houses real people live in. We want to look at the real houses.”

“All right, then. Get your laptop, and let’s see what’s out there. It will be a nice break from researching honeymoon ideas.”

After an hour of searching and talking, they had no good prospects, but a better idea of the market. And they had added details to their “wish list.”

“I’m getting bleary,” said Richard. “Let’s go to bed.”

Camille closed the laptop and set it on a nearby table. She sat in Richard’s lap, kissed him and said, “Okay, but let’s start here.” 

Later, they lay in bed, talking about houses.

“Oh, no!” Camille giggled, “We sound like we’re married already, lying in bed talking about houses. What happened to ‘wow that was fantastic’ and ‘I want to do that again’ and ‘you’re so hot’ and that kind of thing?”

“Sorry. I thought saying we should be sure the master bedroom is large enough for a bigger bed was sort of sexy.”

“Maybe if you’re an estate agent.”

“Okay then. Yes, it was fantastic, and of course I want to do it again, and you’re definitely hot. Did I get all of it right?”

“Richard! I was just teasing. But I am beginning to see how being married changes things. There’s so much more to think about.”

“True. By the way, I did remember to say you’re hot, right? Because I do want to do that again.”

“Richard!” she squealed.

“Shh! Neighbors.”

“Remind me later to add something to the list.”

“You’re talking about houses again,” Richard murmured as he kissed her neck.

“Just that we want one not too close to the neighbors so we can be as loud as we like.”

-o-o-o-o-

Saturday morning was spent on domestic activities. Richard watched Camille move a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer and said, “Look at that, our underwear tumbling around together. Does it give you any ideas?”

“I thought we were going to go for a run.”

“Tumbling around sounds better.”

“After we run.”

“But we’ll be all sweaty and I’ll be tired.”

“I’m going to wash the sheets later, so the sweat doesn’t matter. And if you’re too tired, I’ll do all the work.”

“Ooh,” Richard grinned. “I think I’m exhausted already.”

Camille picked up his trainers and held them out. “Run first.”

After their run, Richard was pleased to find out that he wasn’t too tired for some tumbling in the bed. When Camille got out of bed and put her running clothes back on, she ordered Richard out of bed, too.

“No, I am not going to run again.”

“I’m not asking you to. But I need you out of bed so that I can put the sheets into the washer. Then, while you shower, I’ll go home and shower there.”

“I can’t do that.”

“What can’t you do? I know you’re capable of rolling out of the bed. I’ve seen you do that before.”

“No. I can’t shower.”

“I know it’s a pitiful shower, but you have managed with it for over a year.”

“I can’t shower and do laundry at the same time. Not enough water pressure. Add that to the list. We need investigate the plumbing before we buy a house.”

“Fine, go take your shower, I’ll strip the bed and load the machine. You do have the energy to hit the ‘start’ button, don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know Camille. You’ve worn me out.”

His smirk was answered with her glare. She pulled the top sheet from the bed, then grabbed Richard’s pillow and took it away.

“Hey!”

“Shower, now!” Snap-point.

When Richard emerged from the shower, Camille was gone. A note taped to the washing machine said 

Soap is in, just hit start. I should be ready to go out by the time the last spin is done.  
XOXO  
C

He started the machine, took fresh sheets out of the cupboard and remade the bed. He put away the clothes she had sorted, and looked around to see if anything else needed doing before he went out. He heard the sound of the washing machine going into its spin cycle, and picked up the note Camille had left. She’d laugh at his sentimentality, but he had been keeping them. It was a way of proving to himself that it all was real. This morning was not like his usual Saturday mornings. Well, the laundry was normal. But this Saturday also included a run, sex, and next, house hunting. So was this what married Saturdays were like? He certainly hoped so.

-o-o-o-o-

Camille was ready when Richard arrived. She had her mobile map app running, and she had printed out a few paper maps as well. They spent a few hours driving around checking out listed houses and also neighborhoods. They didn’t stop to look at any of the houses for sale, but Richard did come away from the experience with a better understanding of houses on Saint Marie. 

Camille had been right about the two kinds of houses. Many of the investigations they’d done had involved visiting the posh houses. Of course, he’d seen some shacks like his own house. And he’d seen Camille’s house and the other little houses that climbed the hillside above Honoré. Many of the houses they’d passed today were midway between the little houses and the ones that looked like a spread in Architectural Digest. 

Camille had said no rush, they could browse for a while. She denied having the “dream house” fantasy, but Richard was afraid she was hoping that she would simply fall in love with a house and they’d buy it. He only hoped that when they found a house they liked they’d be able to afford it. 

They both had savings, and there was the money from the Croyden house. But he didn’t want to put every sou into a house. There were so many more expenses in their future. They should get a car of their own and stop depending on the police car. And they wanted kids. That was always an expensive proposition. What were the schools like? They hadn’t talked about that. How could he make enquiries about the quality of the schools without offending everyone? 

Camille stopped the car in front of her house. Richard had been frowning for the last fifteen minutes. She wished he wouldn’t worry so much. She shouldn’t have said she wanted a house for a wedding present. Now he felt pressured, and she hadn’t meant to do that to him.

“Richard? What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Nothing.”

“I know that look. You’re thinking.”

“Wondering if we’ll be able to find a house any time soon.”

“Don’t worry, we have plenty of time,” said Camille. “Come inside. I’ll get you a beer and we can unpack some more of the books.”

While they worked, they talked about houses and having enough room for “stuff.” Richard said they would need enough space to hold all their chattel. 

“You know,” he explained. “My worldly possessions. In a less enlightened age, you would have been considered my chattel. 

Camille gasped and ran from the room.

Richard followed her and said, “No, oh God, no I didn’t mean you’d be my slave. It’s just there was a time when a man’s wife was considered his possession along with his livestock and furniture. It was all considered chattel, movable property.

Camille was watching her laptop start up. “It’s all right, Richard. It’s likely that my Caribbean ancestors came to the islands as slaves. It’s a fact of history, and I accept that.” She started to type.

“They might not have been slaves. There were free Africans, too.”

“It doesn’t matter. My father’s gone and I know nothing of his family. I don’t want to go on “Who Do You Think You Are?” and have them research my history. What about you? Is there a Lord of the Manor somewhere in your background? Did your ancestors order their serfs about?” She typed and clicked.

“Probably not. More likely my ancestors were the serfs. So I suppose we both have chattel in our backgrounds.”

“And in our futures. Look!” Camille turned the computer so Richard could see the screen.

“Camille, it’s cute, but we need a much bigger house than that.”

“I know. This isn’t to buy. It’s to rent.”

“Why would we rent something that looks no larger than my beach shack?”

“For our honeymoon! When you said chattel it gave me an idea. We could go to Barbados and rent a chattel house.”

“Why is it called that?”

“Because it’s movable. Traditionally, plantation workers would lease the land, and set the house on blocks. If the workers went to a new plantation, they would take the house apart and move it. Movable property, chattel. Nowadays, they’ve mostly been anchored to the land, attached to electrics and water. If I can find one available for our dates, could we?”

“Have you ever been to Barbados?”

“No. I know that it was a British colony, so that should make you happy.”

“You really want to do this, don’t you?”

“Yes! The more I think about it, the more perfect it sounds. I wanted something unusual. I mean, anyone can stay at a resort. But this is more interesting. A cozy little cottage with history to it. We don’t even have to go for a whole week. You might want to spend some of the time here.”

“No, a week sounds fine. See what you can find. I’ll go back to unpacking while you do some research.”

-o-o-o-o-

“Where did you get that?” George Poole pointed to his wife’s new electronic toy.

“Richard gave it to me. It’s the tablet he bought while he was here. He sent it to me before he left because he didn’t think he’d use it on Saint Marie. He didn’t like it, but he thought I might find it useful.”

“But you’ve got a computer.”

“I know. This is portable. And I can use it as an e-reader, for my book club.”

“Book club. What are you reading, the latest trashy romance novel? Or do you just sit around and gossip?”

“We read new best-sellers. And we do discuss them. It gets me out of the house once a week, which is a treat.”

George shook his head, and returned to his newspaper. Helen went back to Camille’s latest email.

>   
>  …And you should see how pleased he is! He’s in there now, fussing about which books to put where. I swear, it’s like he’s having a reunion with old friends. Of course, right now it’s making quite a mess, all those boxes in the house.  
>  Oh! More news. NO, not that. ;-) I dread the thought of you and my mother together. You’d lock us in the bedroom until I got pregnant. Not that being locked in would be bad (OMG, did I shock you?!?), but we’re not ready to be more than the two of us. Yet. I haven’t told Richard I have his baby cup. We have enough going on as it is with planning the wedding, the honeymoon, and TA DA! We’re house hunting!  
>  We had planned to get a house in about a year, the same time frame as the other news we hope to have one day. ;-) But the books showed us how tight we are for space, so we’re starting to look. No good prospects yet, but we’re checking listings.  
>  Speaking of houses, we’ve chosen a honeymoon location. We’re going to rent a little cottage on Barbados. They’re called chattel houses. Check the link at the bottom of this email. They’re so cute! I’m having trouble working out flights, but I’ll find something. That’s the problem with being on a small island. You can drive two hundred km and still be in your own country. If I want to travel that far, I’ve got to look for a ferry or a flight.  
>  The dress is done. It fits perfectly, and now I’ve become extra careful about what I eat. My weight stays very steady, and I’m getting lots of exercise. We run several mornings a week, so I know I won’t gain weight. But I worry anyway. Since Richard and I are living in both houses, I gave the dress to Maman to hide it for me. She is a wonderful conspirator! I’m not sure Richard knows what a pair of sneaky women he’s getting in this deal!  
>  So that’s the news from here. I meant what I said earlier, please don’t feel you have to bring us a wedding present. The offer of your silver is lovely, but in this climate, silver tarnishes too easily. It would spend all of its time sealed away (like the baby cup that we don’t need YET), and that would be a waste. Better to wait until we find a house and then we’ll need loads of things, and you can give us a combined wedding and housewarming gift.  
>  Love,  
>  Camille  
> 

Helen smiled. She could picture Richard pottering with his books. He’d always taken great care of them when he was a child. She remembered the first Agatha Christie she’d bought for him. She liked to think she set him on the path to being a detective.

She chuckled at the comment about being locked in the bedroom. She had a feeling that they wouldn’t have to be locked in. She looked at the photos of chattel houses. They looked perfect for playing house. That’s what being a newlywed was like, playing house. Relationships moved on and changed, she knew that only too well. But she believed that even as their lives changed—God, are you listening, I want grandchildren!—they would find a way to stay together, care for each other, and be happy.


	7. Jitters

The next morning, Richard was surprised to awaken alone in bed. The house was quiet. Had Camille gone out for an early run without him? He would be glad when the wedding was over and she stopped obsessing about fitting into her dress. He didn’t think her weight had changed more than an ounce over the entire time he’d known her, but he couldn’t convince her of that. If he’d known a wedding could create so much stress, he’d have suggested eloping. Or maybe not. Catherine would have killed him if he denied her the chance to see her only child get married. 

Of course, by having the wedding on Saint Marie, they were denying _his_ mother the chance to see _her_ only child get married. He knew Mum was disappointed, but deep down they both recognized that it was better this way. If the wedding was in England, his father would have been there and God only knew what offensive thing he might find to do or say to spoil the moment. 

At least they’d found someone to live-stream the ceremony so his mother would be able to watch on the tablet. Richard still couldn’t believe how she had taken to the stupid thing. She could crash Windows by simply pressing her computer’s “on” button, but she had taken to the Android as if it were second nature. 

Thinking of his mother reminded him that he hadn’t called in a while. He picked up his mobile and saw that he had a new message. It was from Bowman. Oh, no, please no, not a new SOCA case so close to the wedding. He opened the message.

“Pls call when C not around.”

That didn’t sound good. If Camille had gone out for a run, this could be the ideal time to call. Best to look around to be sure. When Richard looked, was surprised to see her sitting at the kitchen table, intently reading something on her laptop.

“What are you doing?”

“Scones.”

“Sorry?”

“Scones. I’m looking for a recipe.”

“Why?”

“Because I should know how to make a proper scone.”

“At seven in the morning?”

Camille shrugged and clicked on another link. Richard recognized the frown. She was frustrated.

“What’s the problem?” he asked. “There isn’t much in a scone. Flour, butter, a leavening agent. Oh, and a liquid, I suppose milk."

“The recipes are all so different.”

“You mean quantities?”

“No! Ingredients. Some have egg, some don’t. Some say to knead, some don’t. Some have raisins, some don’t. And then there’s milk or sour cream or yogurt or buttermilk. I don’t have time to try all of these recipes!”

“Why don’t you just ask Mum? I know she can make scones. She’d be pleased to give you her recipe, which is probably her mother’s recipe, which is probably _her_ mother’s recipe. Time honored and thoroughly tested.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s supposed to be a surprise!” Camille whined.

“Oh, ma Fleur, why are you letting this get to you?” Richard bent down to kiss the top of her head. Then he refilled her coffee mug and set it down next to her. As he filled the kettle to make tea he said, “Ask Mum for the recipe and tell her not to tell me. Then I’ll tell her how you surprised me with scones.”

“No, not for—” she stopped suddenly, then continued with, “You said you can’t lie to her, that she always knows.”

“I’m willing to try if it will relieve some of your stress.” The kettle clicked off, and Richard made his tea.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I got so wrapped up in the recipes I didn’t even make tea for you.”

Richard gently closed her laptop, took her hands and pulled her from the chair. “Come here,” he said as he led her out of the kitchen. He tried to do some quick mental math. Was this hormones or wedding jitters? He could survive a few days of hormones, he’d done it before. But if Camille was going to be like this until the wedding, he might just beg Bowman to send him to another island for a week.

He guided her to the sofa and they sat facing each other. He kept her hands in his and said, “Tell me what’s really going on.”

“I told you. I want to be able to make scones.”

“This is about more than that. The scones are just a manifestation of a larger underlying problem.” Seeing her raised eyebrows, Richard smiled and said, “Sorry, pedantic. But my point is that you would not normally be so upset over a recipe.”

“I know,” Camille said in a small voice.

“Then what is going on?” When she wouldn’t meet his eyes, Richard said, “Are you having second thoughts? About us, I mean?”

“No!” She couldn’t say it fast enough. “Not about _us._ But about me. You’re English. Your wife should be able to make scones for you and remember to make your tea in the morning, and, I don’t know, other English stuff… Yorkshire pudding!”

“Oh, Fleur!” Richard pulled Camille into his arms. “Is this about wanting to be a perfect wife? Because I think we both already know I won’t be a perfect husband, so I’ll have no grounds for complaint.”

“But I want to be perfect,” she sniffled. 

“I already think you are. Don’t get caught up the fantasy of perfection. There is no such thing as a perfect marriage. People are fallible and make mistakes. We may not find a perfect house. But we’ll find one that’s comfortable and fits our needs. I don’t think we’ll have a perfect honeymoon. I’m sure Barbados will be lovely, but the odds are the airline will lose my case and I’ll have to wear the same clothes for a week.”

That last comment earned Richard a small giggle. He kissed her and said, “Now, let’s have breakfast and then you can email Mum to ask for a recipe. I promise to tell her that you made delicious scones and that I swooned with delight.”

“But I want her to be surprised.”

“I told you, I’ll tell her I was surprised.”

“I want her to think I’m good enough for you.”

“You’re joking, right? Because she already thinks you can walk on water. And I can tell you this, she’ll be more pleased by your request for _her_ recipe than by making it a surprise for me.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard left Camille to shower while he went to the station early. While it was still quiet, he placed the call to Bowman’s office. After the usual pleasantries, Richard asked if there was a new case.

_“No. Actually, I have a favor to ask. It’s huge and I wouldn’t ask except it’s important.”_

“How huge?”

_“Would you be willing to do a conference call while you’re on your honeymoon? Not even video, just a phone call. It’s for a conference of Caribbean banks that do a big business in offshoring money. Lots of top brass going to be there and they asked for a speaker from SOCA. Since the conference is in the Caribbean, it would naturally fall to you. Ordinarily, we’d send you to Barbados, but—”_

“Wait a minute! Barbados?”

_“Yes. But it’s all right, you don’t have to go there, just spend an hour or so on the phone. I hate to ask, but it’s important because they reached out to us. And it should be you because of the Powell case. I’m sure they’ll understand why you can’t do it in person.”_

“No. I’ll go.”

_“Poole, that would be brilliant, but it’s over and above the call of duty. Not to mention that your lovely feisty bride would probably kill you. And you’re no use to me dead.”_

“No, honestly. I can go. Camille just booked our honeymoon. On Barbados. Oh, God, she’s going to claim she got some sort of voodoo message that made her think of Barbados.”

_“Does she really believe in voodoo?”_

“Only when it serves her purpose, or to irritate me. Which often is the same thing, now I think about it.”

_“Talk to Camille. I’ll send you the rough itinerary for the conference. Ordinarily, speakers are paid for this kind of thing. Because you’re doing this as part of your job, you can’t accept a stipend. But they will offer to comp you a room for a night, or pay for your flight. Maybe Camille’s, too, if she’s willing to participate. You two were quite a hit at the training sessions.”_

“I’ll talk to her about it. I don’t think we’ll need to stay overnight unless it’s far from the house we’re renting. But see what you can negotiate with them and I’ll see what I can negotiate with Camille.”


	8. Girls' Day Out

“Why?”

“Because we want to.”

“A whole day?”

“Yes, Richard, a whole day.” Camille sighed and added, “I haven’t taken off much time, so why can’t I take the day?”

“I’m not saying you can’t have a day off. It’s true that you haven’t taken time off for wedding planning, so I am not questioning you as your boss. I’m just trying to understand the point.”

“You know about hen parties, right?”

“Yes. I’ve seen some of the drunken parades of women enjoying pre-wedding celebrations in Honoré.”

“I didn’t want that. So Maman suggested a spa day. Just us girls.”

“Which girls?”

“Well, Maman and me, obviously. Juliet if her mother can watch Rosie. And, um, maybe a friend or two of Maman. It’s Maman’s gift to me instead of a bridal shower or a hen night.”

“What do women do for a whole day at a spa?”

“Oh, lots of things. A dip in the pool, time in the sauna, a facial, manicure, pedicure, massage. Things like that. A nice girly salad lunch, fruit smoothies.”

“A sauna? Why in heaven’s name does a spa in the tropics need a sauna? It’s hot and steamy everywhere!”

“You should think about some spa time, maybe get a massage. It’s relaxing”

“No,” Richard shuddered. “I don’t like being touched.”

Camille giggled, “Yes you do.”

“Camille! I meant a stranger. If you want to give me a massage, that would be lovely.”

-o-o-o-o-

So a few days before the wedding, Catherine hosted a “hen day” at the spa. Camille opted for a massage while the other women relaxed in the hot tub. 

“This was a lovely idea, Catherine. I don’t need the facial or anything else, just let me soak here.”

“Ah, Juliet, with your skin you don’t need a facial. I’m trying to remember what it was like to be so young.”

“Remember that being young can involve raising a toddler. Between carrying Rosie and picking up her toys, some days my back feels three times older than the rest of me.”

“Perhaps you should have had a massage, like Camille.”

“No, I love hot tubs. I wish we could have one at home.”

“Well, didn’t Fidel get a raise with his promotion? Maybe you will be able to get one.”

“That would be nice. I think it was sweet of the Chief to recommend Fidel for the promotion. I’m glad the exam is over, though. Poor Fidel was so worried. I thought he was going to wear out the book, he studied so much.”

“What is the next promotion?”

“Oh, my, don’t think about that yet! It’s years away.”

“I think the next level is detective constable, DC. Then DI, then DCI.”

“Maybe the Commissioner will give Richard a promotion to DCI as a wedding present.”

“Don’t count on it,” said Camille as she joined the other women in the hot tub. “Richard is SOCA, which is part of the Met. The Commissioner can suggest a raise, but he can’t make it happen. It would be nice if Richard could be a DCI. Then maybe I could get to be a DI.”

“Now why are you worrying about work, ma Chère? Your next job is going to be—”

“Maman! Don’t push. And that goes for the rest of you. No stray comments on how sweet babies are or how important motherhood is. I’m not saying it isn’t true. Just let us do things in our own time.”

Catherine mumbled, “tick tock.”

“I heard that, Maman!”

-o-o-o-o-

The next stage of the spa day was facials. This was torture because they were told to lie quietly so that the masque could do its work. 

“How long—”

“Shh!” said the young woman applying glop to Catherine’s face. “Fifteen minutes of silence. Try meditating.”

Camille giggled, and a cucumber slice fell off her eyelids.

“Be still,” said the young woman who put a fresh slice in place.

Juliet sighed deeply. 

“Juliet?” Camille whispered.

No answer.

“I think she’s asleep.” Catherine whispered back. “I think we’re the only ones awake.”

“My nose itches.”

“Well, don’t scratch it, you’ll pull off some of the masque and then you’ll be in trouble.”

One of the spa workers poked her head in the room and said “Shh!” again.

They were quiet for about a minute, then Camille swore softly, “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I lost another cucumber.”

“Do you want mine? I can—”

“No. Shh.”

Finally, the masques were peeled off, faces were washed, and a soothing moisturizer was applied.

“And you may talk all you like now,” said the young lady as she left the treatment room.

-o-o-o-o-

Over mani-pedis and fruit juice (mixed with champagne Catherine had smuggled in), Camille explained about the chattel house they were renting for their honeymoon. 

“And it turns out to be very lucky that I thought of it, because there’s a conference on Barbados that week.”

“What kind of conference?”

“Banking. Big offshore banks are sending their top people to some association conference.”

“What does that have to do with you?”

“We’re going. Just for one day. They asked SOCA to send someone, and since it’s the Caribbean, that would be Richard. He was so sweet about it, apologizing for having to work during our honeymoon. He even said he would do it as a phone call if I objected to going to the conference. But I don’t mind. I mean, we sort of had a honeymoon while we were in England for work. So it’s payback.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Mostly talk about the importance of banks working with police. Bowman, that’s Richard’s boss at SOCA, must have praised us like crazy, because we’ve gone from a conference call to being speakers at the banquet.”

“That sounds important.”

“Yes, it is. It’s certainly good for Richard’s career to represent SOCA like that. And the Commissioner is pleased because it will make Saint Marie look good. And it’s a treat for me because it’s a dinner dance. I get to dress up, and maybe even convince Richard to dance with me.”

“I hope he won’t be too nervous.”

“No. I wish you could have seen us at the SOCA meeting in London. We told the story of how we came to be working together. He told about arresting me, and we joked about the goat. They laughed. I’ve always—well, not _always_ —but for a long time I’ve thought that Richard can be funny. And together, we just bantered back and forth the way we do. One guy at the meeting said we could do stand-up comedy.”

“But you can’t be funny about a case.”

“No. But Richard will use the Powell case as an example. And we all know that he can talk on and on about a case. The only part of the evening that will bother him is the chit-chat small talk during cocktail hour.”

“Yes,” Catherine said. “Not his strength.” 

“That’s all right. I can steer him through it. And maybe we’ll take our good luck charms with us.”

“What are they?” Catherine asked. “You haven’t told me about this.”

“I was nervous about the trip to London, so when I went to his house to pick up the shirts and ties he wanted, I swiped one of the ties to keep with me. Something to give me confidence.”

“And Richard had a lucky charm? He usually doesn’t believe in such things.”

“He had a pin he bought me. The one shaped like a crown. You saw me wear it. Well, before he gave it to me, he had it in his pocket for luck. He also—” Camille stopped herself before she told about him keeping her knickers. There were some things one did not discuss in front of mothers. So she said, “Um, he had it with him when he testified at Anderson’s trial. I couldn’t be in the courtroom because I was a potential witness. So it was a way for me to give him moral support.”

Catherine sipped her drink and looked at her daughter. This was different from any relationship Camille had been in. She wasn’t blindly in love, head over heels. This was a best-friend, I’ve-got-your-back kind of relationship. It was the kind of relationship that a strong marriage grew into, and they seemed to have it already. Richard wasn’t demonstrative in public, but the few comments Camille had made when she was alone with her mother told Catherine that he made up for it in private. They had a good balance of being in love and being in like. Catherine was certain that this relationship would last a lifetime. She might remind Erzulie to give them a nudge now and then. But it was time to shift her attentions to Yemaya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yemaya (also spelled Yemaja) is a goddess of fertility and motherhood. (Catherine never lets up!)


	9. Rehearsal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to readers who guessed this plot twist a long time ago!

Richard had to admit, Camille’s spa day seemed to have done wonders. Maybe a day with the girls finally left her talked out regarding the wedding. Or maybe it was the champagne. The spa wasn’t licensed, and for residents, there was a “no alcohol” policy. But somehow, Catherine had convinced them to turn a blind eye to the cooler bag she brought so that they could have a treat with lunch.

As he understood it, the day had ended with afternoon tea. Why a group of Caribbean women would want afternoon tea—including the scones Camille had obsessed over—mystified Richard. But the spa day cured her of the perfection mania. Now she had moved on to impatience. On the way to their wedding rehearsal, she was almost giddy with anticipation.

“Camille?”

“Yes?”

“You do know this isn’t the wedding, right?”

“Don’t be silly, Richard, of course I know.”

“It’s just you’re awfully excited about it.”

“It’s the last _thing_. You know, the last item on the list before we get to the actual wedding.”

Just before they went into the church office to have their final talk with Father Chevalier, Camille stopped short.

“What is it?” Richard wondered if she was going to collapse into hysterical giggles.

“I just want to tell you that I love you.”

“Oh, Camille, ma Fleur, I love you, too.” He kissed her chastely—they were sort of in church now, after all—and they were interrupted by a discrete cough.

“We’ll get to that part later,” said a grinning Father Chevalier.

-o-o-o-o-

The rehearsal started smoothly. Father Chevalier explained who would stand where, who would walk where when, and other details. He sent Camille and Dwayne to the back of the church for their walk up the aisle.

When the priest said “Who gives this woman…” Catherine interrupted.

“Excuse me, Father.”

“You only need to say ‘I do,’ Catherine.”

“I know. But what about Richard? Why does nobody give the groom away?”

“I don’t know.”

“So there’s no rule against it?”

Richard sighed. Camille was two steps away from him, couldn’t they just get on with it. He looked at her, and saw how excited she looked. Why on Earth should her mother’s fascination with a detail like this bring on such a grin?

“No, Catherine, no rule against it.”

“Good. Then you should say “Who gives this couple, or who gives this man and this woman.”

“Why?”

“Just say it, Father!” Catherine gave the priest a “don’t ask!” glare, so he shrugged. Richard looked at Dwayne, who stood there holding Camille’s hand, ready to give her to Richard. Clearly, he had no idea what was going on. 

Father Chevalier sighed and rolled his eyes. “Who gives this man and this woman?”

“We do,” said two female voices. Richard had been looking at Camille, but now he was looking around the church, scanning for the source of the second voice.

“Mum?”

“Here I am, Richard!” Helen Poole called as she ran up the aisle. 

“I didn’t think you were coming!”

“How could I not see my only child get married?”

“You knew?” Richard asked Camille, whose grin was even wider.

“She’s a wedding present. I arranged the flights and Maman has been hiding her since she arrived a few days ago.”

“I can’t believe—” Richard was cut off mid-sentence when his mother reached him and hugged him fiercely. Over his mother’s shoulder, Richard looked at Camille and blinked back tears. _Thank you!_ he mouthed.

The rehearsal was forgotten in the round of introductions. Finally Father Chevalier clapped his hands.

“People! We’re in the middle of the wedding rehearsal. I have a meeting with the parish council, and I need to finish with you. Come on, take your places. I’m sure Catherine has a party ready to spring on you when you’re done. So let that motivate you.”

The rehearsal went quickly. 

“And then I will pronounce you man and wife. And—”

“I know what to do!” said Camille, as she kissed Richard.

“So it seems,” said Father Chevalier. “Now, you two will go down the aisle together, and your two escorts will follow. Or, better yet, Fidel, you escort Mrs. Poole. Dwayne, you escort Catherine. That will look nice. So, questions?”

Heads shook and there were murmurs of “no,” so Father Chevalier bade them good evening and went to his meeting. Camille and Richard were the last to leave the church.

“Day after tomorrow,” she said. “Nervous?”

“No. You?”

“No. I think we’ve got everything arranged, and I’m confident you’ll show up. If you don’t, you do know that the whole island will track you down, right?”

“Never mind the whole island. Mum will make sure I’ll be here. I do have one request.”

“What’s that?”

“After he pronounces us man and wife, could you please not launch yourself at me like that? I nearly fell over.”

“I thought you like a little enthusiasm,” Camille said teasingly.

“Not in church, Camille. A little decorum is all I’m asking for. Save the enthusiasm for when we’re alone.” Seeing her pout he smiled and added, “Just think, if we’re decorous in church, we’ll have extra enthusiasm stored up for later.”

-o-o-o-o-

Catherine had left La Kaz in the care of her chef and waitress so that the rehearsal party could be at Richard’s house. Juliet and Dwayne’s current girlfriend took the food Helen and Catherine had prepared out to the beach to set up so that the party would be ready to start as soon as the rehearsal was over. 

As Richard and Camille left the church, she said, “I hope you weren’t planning on being _enthusiastic_ right now, because Maman does have a party planned. Mostly just the wedding party, not a great extravaganza. But it’s at your house, so…”

“Oh. But your house is on the way from here.”

“We cannot be late for our own party! What’s come over you? Is it the new wardrobe? I finally got you into some casual trousers and you’ve gone wild!”

“I thought you’d like to get me out of these trousers,” Richard whispered in her ear.

“Richard!” Camille hissed. “We’re still near the church!”

“Uh, mixed message here. You kissed me passionately just before, and now you can’t even talk about sex in sight of the church! And you say the nuns _didn’t_ mess with your mind?”

“Their only advice on sex was _don’t,_ so be glad I didn’t pay too much attention!”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard parked the Defender and walked around to the passenger door. Camille smiled as he took her hand to help her out.

“Tres gallant!” she said.

“This is our last ‘date’ before we’re married, so I thought I should do the right thing.”

“Uh huh. And after we’re married, I can open my own doors?”

“You usually do anyway. What?” Richard stopped walking when Camille grabbed his arm.

“Tie. Nice touch for church, not needed now.”

“I’ll take it off inside and hang it up. I’m glad the house is tidy. So THAT’S why you straightened up this morning before we went to work!”

By the time they reached the house, everyone was gathered to greet them. Confetti was tossed and a toast was drunk. As ordered, Richard went into the house to remove his tie. When he walked out onto the veranda, he took in the scene before him. Torches and scattered candles lit the beach area. Chairs had been scattered in little groupings. And his mother—his very English Mum—stood on the beach, drink in hand, chatting with Dwayne. And she was BAREFOOT? And wearing a brightly flowered skirt that he’d never have expected to see on her. Instead of a buttoned-up blouse and cardigan, she wore a bright yellow t-shirt. 

Camille stood next to Richard and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Come down to the party.”

“I will, in a minute,” Richard turned and kissed her cheek. “I’m just taking it all in. Thank you for bringing Mum down here.”

“It was Maman’s idea. She was outraged that your father would prevent your mother from being at our wedding. You know how I’m not going to say _obey,_ right? Maman isn’t exactly into obedience either. She has run her whole life—and a lot of mine—without help from a man, so the idea that a man could stop his wife from doing something she thought was important was unacceptable. So we came up with a way for your mother to disobey your father.”

“He must have been mad as hell.”

“She said he was more like annoyed. Oh God, Richard. He won’t do anything…?”

“Like hit her? No. I know abused women learn to hide it, but no. I’m certain he’s never been physically abusive. Psychologically, maybe. Certainly he has treated her like some sort of lesser being at times. The only thing he might do while she’s here is sleep with another woman. I’m fairly certain that he hasn’t always been faithful, so if he’s got someone at the moment, he’ll spend time with her.”

“How awful for your mother!”

“I sometimes feel guilty because I know she stayed with him because of me. Camille… I, um… I know you won’t vow obedience, and that’s fine because I don’t expect to be your lord and master. But I promise you, even if you are disobedient or make me angry, I won’t cheat on you. I’m not like him, Camille.”

“I know, Richard. I know I can trust you.” Camille sighed as Richard wrapped his arms around her. They stood like that for a moment, and then she said, “You’re a lot like her, you know. Do the right thing, no matter how it hurts. Put another’s well-being ahead of your own. The decency that makes you so special. You get that from her. The intelligence and sarcasm is probably more your father, although you don’t have his ruthlessness in the sarcasm.”

“Dad is very bright. And he’s impatient with people who are less so. I suppose one reason I worked so hard at school was to be good enough to keep up. It can be a curse, you know, being intelligent. You spend so much time waiting for others to catch up.”

Camille looked at Richard to see if he was serious. She smiled when she recognized the teasing smirk.

“Not you, though,” he continued. “No matter what I do, you’re always right there with me, or two steps ahead of me. I think Mum is smarter than she shows, but hides it because Dad needs to be the brains of the family. I love that you don’t hide your intelligence or alter your opinion just to placate me. I respect you for that, Camille, and I think respect is as important in a relationship as love.” 

“Maybe we should add _respect_ to our vows.”

“No, we can promise that privately. I think we’ve caused Father Chevalier enough trouble. Come on, let’s go to our party.” 

As they walked down the steps to the sand, Catherine approached them with drinks. Richard accepted a beer and kissed her on the cheek.

“Merci, Maman,” he said, much to Catherine’s astonishment. “For… oh gosh, for so much. For Camille, of course. And for bringing Mum here. And for, what should I call it? For _islandizing_ Mum.”

“She’s less resistant to change than you are, Reeshard,” said Catherine. “After our spa day, we went shopping so she could fit in better.”

“How did I miss all this? I’m supposed to be a detective.”

“It takes one to outwit one! Do you remember when I told you Maman and I were going to do a girls’ day at the spa?” Camille asked. “I knew you wouldn’t want to be around all that girlie stuff, so we were safe there. And we went out to Victoire to shop, so you wouldn’t accidentally run into us.”

“What did I say earlier? Two steps ahead of me, all the time.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard and Helen stood at the edge of the water. She started to wade into the water, but Richard grabbed her arm.

“Don’t do that! There are spiny creatures in there.”

“Oh, Richard, I was only going to get in up to my ankles.”

“Yeah, well, so was I, and I stepped on something sharp.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm? No, that was when I first got here.”

“And I suppose you haven’t been in the water since?”

“Mum…”

“You need to learn to give things a second chance. You can’t let one hurt scare you off.”

“I know. But that sea urchin really hurt.”

“So no second chance for the ocean, then?”

Richard shrugged, “Perhaps. Camille will try to get me to swim when we’re in Barbados. I suppose I’ll give in. I’ve learned to choose my battles.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, no! I don’t want you to think we fight all the time. We do, sort of. But it’s more like debates.” Richard chuckled, and said, “What’s that line from Austen about taking a position you don’t really have just to be irritating?”

“Darcy accuses Elizabeth of ‘professing opinions which in fact are not your own.’ Of course, she does it on purpose to needle him because his opinions are set in stone. Sound familiar?”

“I’m not that opinionated!” Richard huffed. 

“Of course not, darling.”

“Anyway, it’s always Camille who starts it.”

“Good for Camille! It got your attention, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did. And to be fair, even when we argue, she’s never mean about it. She never goes for the hard hit, the cruel jab. We were talking earlier about how important respect is. And that’s the thing. Even when we’re speaking rather loudly—what?”

Helen coughed. “Nothing, darling.”

“As I said, even when we’re speaking rather loudly, we still love and respect each other. If we’d thought about it earlier, we would have added respect to our vows. By the way, Camille is not saying _obey._

“I didn’t imagine she would.”

“I wouldn’t ask her to. I don’t want…”

“You don’t want a marriage like mine?” Helen asked softly.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know.”

“Was Dad angry about you coming here?”

“He was more annoyed than angry. He certainly was surprised, and he blamed Camille.”

“She says Catherine was the real instigator.”

“Imagine your father dealing with the two of them at once. I’d buy tickets to that,” Helen said with a little laugh. “When he realized I was serious and not backing down, he just said it was a foolish thing to do. But he wasn’t paying for it and wasn’t expected to participate, so except for meals it’s no trouble for him. I left food for him in the freezer, but he’ll probably get takeaway or eat at the pub… or somewhere else.”

“Mum…”

“Don’t worry, Richard. I’ve known for a long time. They come and go. I think there’s one at the moment, so he’ll have somewhere to go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“If it weren’t for me, you might, I don’t know…”

“Don’t say that. There are always decisions, forks in the road. If it weren’t for you, maybe I’d never have married at all. Then I’d never have a chance to be a grandmother.”

“Oh, please, don’t start that. Catherine is bad enough.”

“Sorry. Camille already gave us the ‘give us time’ lecture, so I won’t bring it up again. As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters.”

Richard put his arm around his mother’s shoulders and said, “I am. More than I ever thought possible.”


	10. Premarital Texts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's actually more phone conversation than text, but I like the title this way. (And, no, it isn't what you're thinking!)

Camille frowned at the clock. She was supposed to make it an early night so that she’d be rested and refreshed. It wouldn’t do for the bride to look like she hadn’t slept a wink. But Camille feared that was going to happen. She rolled over and tried Richard’s side of the bed. No, that didn’t feel right. She piled up all the pillows and flopped into them. She tried burrowing into the pile. No, still not falling asleep. She was about to get up and watch TV when her mobile buzzed. She looked at the text.

“Are you awake?”

She replied, “R U sober?”

Richard texted, “Ha. Yes, sober. Are you alone?”

Although Richard had said he didn’t want a stag night, Dwayne and Fidel insisted on taking him out for “a drink or two” on his last night of freedom. Camille had lectured both men about not trying to get Richard drunk. She knew she could trust Fidel, but if they started trying to compete with Dwayne, Richard would be standing at the altar with an ice pack on his head. Rather than text, Camille called Richard. He answered quickly.

_“Fleur!”_

“Hi, Richard. Are you sober?”

_“Course am sober. You alone?”_

“You’re drunk!”

_“Not drunk, my lady, but having drink taken.”_ Richard said this with exaggerated care.

“What? Richard how much did you have to drink?”

_“I’m not drunk! Seriously, Camille, I’m fine.”_

“If you were completely sober, Richard, you wouldn’t be so silly.”

_“Two beers, that’s all. Fidel just dropped me off, and yes, he was definitely sober enough to drive. Even Dwayne restricted his intake. I suppose that was because the Commissioner stopped by to have a drink with us. I’m just, I don’t know. Giddy? I mean, we’re finally doing this! I’m not a bit sleepy. Laugh if you will, but I want to wake up Father Chevalier and ask him to marry us NOW.”_

“I know what you mean. I can’t sleep, either.”

_“So we’re wide awake and can’t make good use of the time. That doesn’t seem fair.”_

“Patience, Richard. We’ll be married in less than 12 hours.”

_“And then we have to walk to La Kaz with all the town gaping at us, so no chance to sneak away. Then the reception, ditto. I’m sorry I agreed to this.”_

“WHAT?”

_“Not the wedding, Camille. I’m sorry I agreed that we’d stay apart tonight. I mean, one night of sleeping alone will not turn either of us back into a virgin.”_

“We promised our mothers. It’s part of the not seeing the bride before the ceremony tradition.”

_“Speaking of the maternal ones, are they there hovering over you?”_

“No. But you can’t sneak over here!”

_“But I miss you.”_

“I miss you, too. But you can’t sneak over here.”

_“Oh God, I sound like a randy teenager trying to escape from our parents.”_

Camille giggled, “We’ll escape from everyone for a whole week. Think of that as your reward for being good tonight.”

_“Is that your final offer?”_

“Yes, Richard. Go to sleep.”

_“All right. I love you, Fleur.”_

“I love you, too. Goodnight.”

_“Goodnight.”_

Camille flopped back onto the pillows. She smiled, thinking that by this time tomorrow, she would be on her honeymoon. She still wasn’t sleepy, but she felt relaxed and comfortable. Then her phone buzzed again. She read Richard’s text and sighed.

“Are you awake?”

She called him, and before he could finished saying hello, she said, “Are you SURE you’re sober?”

_“Yes. I forgot to tell you something.”_

“And it has to be now?”

_“Yes. There won’t be time to talk about it tomorrow before the ceremony. You know how Fidel and Dwayne are going to walk our mothers out of the church?”_

“Yes.”

_“We never thought about how they’ll go into the church. If we had brothers or fathers here, that would work, but we don’t.”_

“They can walk in together. They like being partners in crime, you must have noticed that.”

_“Yes. You see, the thing is…”_

“The thing is what?”

_“We were going over the wedding details. You know, who carries what ring, who walks whom where. That’s when we realized that there was no escort into the church for our mothers. And, um, well, we had a volunteer.”_

“Oh, God, not one of Dwayne’s drinking buddies?”

_“No! I never would have agreed to one of them taking part in our wedding.”_

“Then who?”

Camille could hear Richard take a deep breath. _“The Commissioner.”_

“Really?”

_“Yes, and when he volunteered like that, what could I do? I don’t want to offend our boss.”_

“Oh.” Camille thought it was a lovely idea, but she couldn’t resist letting Richard worry a bit longer. One last wind-up before they were married. Not that she expected marriage to stop her from teasing Richard.

_“Don’t you think it would be nice to have someone walk our mothers into the church? Camille?”_

“Hmm?”

_“Are you angry? Oh, God, you are. I’m sorry, I should have called you about this. Please don’t be angry! He seemed so pleased, and it was solution to a bit of a problem. Please don’t be angry!”_

“I’m not angry, Richard. Actually, it sounds like a nice idea.”

_“Are you sure?”_

“Yes. I know how he has that way of cornering you, and if you’d said no it would have been awkward. And while Maman was probably quite prepared to walk down the aisle without an escort, your Mum will probably find it comforting.”

_“So it’s okay?”_

“Yes, of course it is. But I had no idea you were such a suck-up!”

_“And you would have told Patterson no?”_

“Probably not. Or if I did, I’d tell him that you wouldn’t like it.”

_“Hey, I thought we had each other’s backs. Although, now I think of it, I kind of like having your front. Are you sure I couldn’t—”_

“No sneaking! Try to get some sleep.”

_“If you insist. I love you. Goodnight Fleur.”_

“Love you, too. Goodnight Richard.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard looked at his watch. He should try to sleep, but he was wide awake. He checked that everything on his packing list was checked off. He made sure his suit was ready for the next morning. He looked at the ring box. He would give the ring to Fidel tomorrow morning. Probably best to put it in a pocket of the suit jacket now. But Fidel would remember to ask for it. He’d been through a wedding, and that gave Richard comfort that things would go smoothly.

He took the ring out of the black velvet box. Just a plain gold band. Camille said she didn’t want to have a ring that she would worry about. No stones to fall out. Just a plain band that she could wear all the time. He’d had the date engraved inside their rings. Should he have done something more than that? He recalled reading that Abraham Lincoln had “Love is eternal.” engraved inside Mary’s ring. They must have been VERY tiny letters to fit all that inside a ring. 

As he turned the ring over and over in his fingers, he thought of something they could have had engraved in their rings. And that led to an unanswered question. He grabbed his mobile and once again texted Camille.

“Are you awake?”

When she didn’t text or call within a few minutes, Richard assumed Camille had managed to fall asleep. He sighed. He was tired, but not the least bit sleepy. He went over every detail again. His suit was ready; the ring was in the pocket. Father Chevalier had the paperwork, so that was taken care of. Fidel was picking him up, so that was not a worry. He’d been so proud when Richard had asked him to be best man; there was no way that he would let himself mess this up. 

Richard stood on the veranda, eyes closed, listening to the sea. It was amazing how calming that sound could be. After a few minutes he went inside and tried to get to sleep.

-o-o-o-o-

Richard woke to the sound of soft clucking. 

“Bloody chickens! Out! Get out. Yes, I mean you! Come on, out you go!” He clapped his hands and chased the offending birds through the doors and off the veranda. Carefully watching his step, he made his way to the kitchen. He had just turned on the kettle when his phone rang. He groaned when he recognized the ring tone.

“Good morning, Mum.”

Pause

“Yes, I’m awake.”

Pause

“Yes, fully awake, standing up and making tea.”

Pause

“Not as long as I’d like. I had trouble getting to sleep, but then I did sleep soundly for a few hours.”

Pause

“I’ll be fine. I’m going away for a week. I can catch up on sleep then.”

Pause

“MUM!” Richard could feel himself blush.

Pause

“Really, Mum, I think you’ve been around Catherine for too long.”

Helen laughed and they ended the call. Richard thought about what he’d said. Just a few days here with Catherine had changed his mother. She was laughing and relaxed. What was it about this place and these people? If he could bottle it as a miracle potion, he’d make a fortune.

-o-o-o-o-

When Camille’s alarm clock went off, she slapped at the “snooze” button and rolled over. Then it stuck her. It was her wedding day! She jumped out of bed and into the shower. The alarm went off again just as she was drying off. Her mobile alarm, which she had set as a back-up played “Here Comes the Bride.” It was silly to download a ringtone for just one day, but it made her smile. She was about to make it play again when she noticed that she had a new text. She called Richard. 

"I just saw your text. What is it?”

_“I was looking at your ring last night.”_

“And? Oh no, you dropped it and it went under the floor boards!”

_“No, it’s safe in its box. I was looking at the inside. I had the date engraved in our rings.”_

“Is the date wrong in mine? It’s right in yours, I looked.”

_“Oh, no, the date is correct. But then I wondered if we should have had our initials engraved, too.”_

“No time for that, Richard. The ceremony is in a few hours.”

_“I know. But then I realized I don’t know what your initials will be.”_

“How do you not know that? My middle name is Therèse, you know that.”

_“Yes, but what are you using as your married name? We never discussed this. I can’t believe we never talked about this!”_

“Oh, I think I’d rather keep Therèse as my middle name.”

_“What about your last name? Are you keeping Bordey or taking Poole? Or do you want to hyphenate your name?”_

“I just assumed I’d take your name. Isn’t that what you want?”

_“I’d like that. But a lot of women don’t change their last name these days, and if you’d rather not, I understand.”_

“No, I want to take your name.”

_“Unless you think it would be awkward at work with two Detective Pooles.”_

“I think people can tell us apart, Richard. We don’t look that much alike.”

_“True. You’re much prettier.”_

“That’s sweet. Anyway, Maman has waited for so long for me to get married, if I didn’t change my name, she’d see it as some sort of failure. She can’t wait to refer to me as her MARRIED daughter, Mrs. Poole.”

_“I like the sound of that.”_

“So do I. But why the middle-of-the-night-text? We could have talked about this later.”

_“You have to sign the papers at church today, and whatever you write will be your married name. Since we hadn’t talked about it, I was afraid you hadn’t thought about it.”_

“I’ve thought about it. Promise not to laugh?”

_“I promise.”_

“I’ve practiced writing it.”

_“Really?”_

“Yes. Like a love-struck teenager.”

_“And in a few hours it really will be your name. Since we’ve got a few hours…”_

“No, Richard.”

_“I could be there in ten minutes.”_

“And so could our mothers.”

_“I know. But you can’t blame a guy for trying.”_

“I suppose not. Try to take comfort in the fact that you are almost certainly going to get lucky tonight.”

_“ALMOST certainly? You mean there’s doubt?”_

Camille giggled. She couldn’t resist one more little wind-up. Then she stopped laughing when she heard voices. “They’re here! I have to hang up. Maman will probably say this is part of the bad luck before the wedding thing.”

_“Wait! There’s some DOUBT?”_

“Love you! See you in church!” Camille ended the call. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The engraving in Mary Lincoln’s ring was "A.L. to Mary, Nov. 4, 1842. Love is Eternal." I can’t imagine how they fit all that into one ring!


	11. Getting Ready

Camille pulled on a robe and walked out of her bedroom.

“Good morning, ma chère!” Catherine inspected Camille closely. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Have you had breakfast? Do you feel able to eat?” Helen asked. “On my wedding day, I was a nervous wreck.”

“I’m not nervous. Shall I make coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee,” said Helen and Catherine at the same time. Catherine continued, “I remembered your croissants. And I brought a little pre-wedding bubbly.”

Camille puttered around the kitchen and answered questions about nerves, the dress, the shoes, her hair, her makeup and a dozen other things.

They lingered over breakfast. Camille assured the two women that there was plenty of time to get dressed. She didn’t want to do anything fussy with her hair, since it would be hidden by flowers and the veil. 

They were on their second glasses of champagne when Helen suddenly exclaimed, “Flowers!”

“In the fridge,” said Camille calmly.

“Buttonholes for the men?”

“In Richard’s fridge. It’s just for him. The boys aren’t wearing suits, so they don’t need flowers.”

Helen took out her mobile and sent Richard a text, “Don’t forget buttonhole!”

“Who has the rings?” Catherine asked.

“I have Richard’s and he has mine. I’ll give Richard’s ring to Dwayne to carry.”

Helen took out her mobile and sent Richard a text, “Don’t forget the ring!”

Camille smiled. Helen was such a mother hen! No wonder it took Richard so long to end a phone conversation with her. She imagined Richard reading the texts and sighing in exasperation. At least she hadn’t reminded—Camille excused herself to go to the loo.

She grabbed her mobile on the way into the bathroom. She sent Richard a text. Then she slipped the mobile into a pocket of her robe and returned to the kitchen. The two mothers were going over the bride’s requirements.

“Something old, my pearls,” said Helen. “And the pearl earrings are new.”

“Something borrowed is my lace hankie,” added Catherine. “Something blue. Camille? What’s your something blue?”

“Something only Richard will see,” Camille grinned wickedly. She laughed at Helen’s blush. “Sorry, you’ll have to get used to the French outlook on things.”

“Yes, Richard used to complain about your Frenchness. But I notice it’s been quite a while since he’s complained about that. I suppose he’s learned to benefit from it?”

Camille giggled, “Mais oui!”

“Oh, I almost forgot. We English add another line to the rhyme. ‘A lucky sixpence for your shoe.’ You’re supposed to wear it in your shoe.” Helen held out the coin. “I suggest you carry it and just slip it into your shoe when we get to church.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard was enjoying a quiet cup of tea and some toast when his mobile buzzed. It was from his mother. 

“Don’t forget buttonhole!”

He sighed. It was on his checklist. He didn’t want to get it out too early for fear of it wilting in the heat. His mobile buzzed again.

“Don’t forget the ring!”

When the mobile buzzed a third time, he sighed and shook his head. What was Mum worrying about NOW? But this was from Camille.

“Yr Mum wants to know if U need a warm jumper. ;-)”

He laughed and sent Camille a reply.

-o-o-o-o-

Camille stood at the mirror, pinning her hair back. She would wait until the last minute to put the flowers in her hair, so that they would be fresh. Her mobile buzzed. She picked it up and read Richard’s text.

“If you intend to turn into my mother, please note that there is still time for me to do a runner.”

She smiled and texted back, “I will hunt U down. I told U I always get my man. XOXO”

Catherine walked into the bedroom as Camille tapped _send._

“Are you texting Richard?”

“Maman, it’s just a text. We can’t SEE each other.”

“Still, you shouldn’t tempt fate.”

Camille sighed, set down the mobile, and pushed another pin into her hair.

-o-o-o-o-

Richard smiled at Camille’s reply. He thought back to that cold morning when she’d tracked him down, sitting all alone looking at the Thames. Thank God for her persistence. The sound of a car door told him his best man had arrived. Fidel stepped onto the veranda.

“Good morning, Sir, uh, Richard.” Fidel was still having trouble adjusting to using his boss’s name outside of office hours.

“Good morning, Fidel. Any last words of wisdom before I give up my freedom?”

“Pay attention to what happens. Enjoy the day. I was so nervous that I remembered hardly any of the ceremony. I must have done all right, said the right things at the right time. But Juliet says I was almost shaking.”

Richard’s mobile buzzed again. He smiled as he read Camille’s message.

“M&M hovering, so no more from me. LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!”

“I think Catherine is making Camille turn off her mobile,” Richard chuckled. “She says the mothers are hovering.”

“It’s easier for the groom. We don’t have to do the hair and the makeup and the veil and all of that. Juliet said she felt like a doll, with her mother and sister dressing her.”

“Well, all I have left to do is put on my jacket, so I don’t think I’ll need you to dress me.” Richard looked at his watch. “How soon can we leave for the church? I don’t want to be late.”

-o-o-o-o-

Camille looked at her empty glass.

“No ma chère, I think that should be your limit. I thought you said you weren’t nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.” _Or at least I wasn’t until you showed up and started making me crazy!_ “I just wish we’d set an earlier time. There’s nothing to do but hang around and wait.”

Catherine poured the last of the champagne for herself and Helen.

“Maman, that’s not fair.”

“We don’t want you wobbling down the aisle.”

“Dwayne would hold me up.” Seeing Catherine’s raised eyebrows, Camille added, “I talked to Richard last night. They didn’t get drunk, even Dwayne, so he’ll be fine this morning.”

“It’s good that he’s taking this responsibility seriously.”

“It could be that. Or it could be that the Commissioner was there.”

“Oh dear,” said Helen. “Richard has told me how nervous the man makes him.”

“He’s really a lovely person,” said Catherine. “Just a bit imposing. The Pattersons have been friends for years, since Camille was a little girl. Camille, I thought you might have asked him to walk you in.”

“We wanted it to be the four of us, the team. But he is getting to take part. Last night, he volunteered to walk the two of you in. He’ll meet us at the church.”

-o-o-o-o-

As Richard slid into the passenger seat of Fidel’s little car, he heard a loud squeak.

“Oh, sorry!” Fidel said. “It’s just one of Rosie’s toys. I thought I’d found all of them. Just toss it in the back.”

Fidel tried not to grin too widely. Richard had said he wasn’t nervous, but his reaction to the squeaky toy betrayed him. This was a strange situation for Fidel. Richard was older and his superior, but now Fidel was the one who had more experience and could give advice.

“Just relax. Close your eyes and I’ll try not to hit potholes.”

“Thank you, Fidel. I swear, Camille aims for them.”

-o-o-o-o-

Just as Catherine was zipping up the back of Camille’s dress, they heard a knock at the door.

“Where’s the bride?” Dwayne called out.

“In here,” said Helen, as she opened the door.

“Good morning, you look lovely,” said Dwayne.

“Thank you,” Helen blushed at the compliment. 

“Good morning, Dwayne. We’re almost ready.”

“Good morning, Catherine, and you look lovely, too. The Commissioner is going to be a lucky man with two such pretty ladies on his arms. Oh, did anyone tell you about that?”

“Yes, we know.”

“So what’s left to do? Is she dressed?”

“Yes, I’m ready.” Camille walked into the living room. 

Dwayne, who was always ready to compliment a woman, stood mute, looking at Camille. He was surprised to find himself blinking back a tear. He’d come to think of Camille as a little sister, and here she was, a bride.

“Well, look at you,” he said. Remembering back to her time in charge at the station, he executed a courtly bow and said, “You look magnificent, your majesty.”

She gave a regal nod, and then yelped and ran back into her bedroom.

“What’s wrong? What did I say?”

“It’s okay, Dwayne,” she called. “You reminded me of something.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard and Fidel sat in the vestry with Father Chevalier. They both declined his offer of coffee or tea. 

“So,” the priest said, “I didn’t hear any stories of a wild stag night.”

“No, just a few drinks last night,” Fidel replied.

“I see. Well, naturally, I know you two would be temperate on such an occasion, but…”

“Dwayne will be fine this morning,” said Richard. “He left when we did, and he said he was going home.”

“Of course. He wouldn’t want to do something to upset his boss’s wedding.”

“Father, it’s nice of you to think I have that kind of power over Dwayne. But I think it may have been the presence of the Commissioner that kept him from drinking too much. Or—and I say this with love since she’s about to become family—the one he is _really_ afraid of is…”

“Catherine!” they all said, and laughed. 

“I think she’s more excited about the wedding than Camille and I are. Not that I don’t want to get married. I do. But how we do it doesn’t matter that much to me, as long as it’s legal.”

“It will be legal. The papers are right here,” Father Chevalier patted the papers that sat on the table. “Oh, before I forget. Please turn off your mobiles.”

“Right. I’ll keep mine on until the last minute in case Dwayne calls.” Fidel looked at his mobile, but there were no messages. He saw Richard’s nervous expression and added, “You know, in case they’re running late. Juliet was ten minutes late getting to the church for our wedding. It felt like ten years. Don’t worry, s—Richard, it will all be fine. I’m just going to go check the church, see who’s here, and call Dwayne to let him know we’re ready.”

Father Chevalier turned to Richard and said, “This is the point where I usually ask the groom if he’s ready, needs advice, that sort of thing. Somehow, I can’t imagine what advice you would need from me. I suspect that in your line of work, you both have seen failed relationships of all sorts, so perhaps you know of most of the pitfalls. But today is not a day to dwell on such things. Focus on your love and the commitment you are making to each other.”

“Thank you, Father.”

-o-o-o-o-

At Camille’s house, final preparations were underway. Helen and Catherine helped each other with their corsages, Camille put on the lace “church” jacket, and Dwayne posed them in Camille’s little garden for a few photographs. They were looking through the pictures when the mobile rang. Dwayne answered, listened, and gave the women a thumbs-up sign.

“All right, ladies. They’re at the church. You have your flowers. I have the ring right here,” Dwayne patted his pocket. “I think it’s time.”


	12. I Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm wearing my best hat as I post this!

Camille smiled when she saw the Defender. Probably the work of Dwayne’s current girlfriend, white ribbon streamers and bows fluttered from the antenna and the door handles.

“We got it as clean as we could,” Dwayne said, as he opened the door. Camille saw that he had covered the seats with sheets.

“That’s very thoughtful, Dwayne.”

He kissed her hand and helped her into the car. “Nothing is too good for the queen of Honoré.”

When they reached the church, Commissioner Patterson was waiting at the bottom of the steps.

“Good morning!” he boomed. “Camille you are a vision!” He helped Camille out of the car while Dwayne assisted the mothers. They made their way up the steps. Dwayne’s friend Greg was waiting for them, and took pictures of the mothers fussing over Camille’s veil and flowers.

“I’ll be right back. One last errand,” said Dwayne with a wink at Camille. He ran to the Vestry door, and Father Chevalier answered his knock. Richard looked up and thought he might faint. Had something gone wrong?

“Hey, Chief, everything’s fine. Camille thought you might like to have this. See you in a few!”

Dwayne dashed out, and Richard looked down at the object Dwayne had placed in his hand. It was the crown pin. Richard felt all the tension leave his body. His Queen of Hearts was here, ready to marry him. He slipped the pin into his pocket. 

“I think it’s time, Gentlemen,” said Father Chevalier.

-o-o-o-o-

Guests sat enjoying the moment or chatting quietly as they waited for the wedding party to arrive. Patterson had taken it upon himself to greet people as they arrived. Knowing that there were more guests for the bride than the groom, he told people to sit anywhere, that they were not doing “sides.” 

When the priest, groom and best man walked out, all conversation stopped. Richard felt a bit uneasy with everyone looking at him. Then Rosie called out “Daddy!” and people turned to look at her. Juliet looked stricken as she tried to quiet her daughter. Richard shook his head and smiled. The ripple of laughter that had gone through the church helped break the tension. Richard slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the pin. Camille always seemed to know when he needed help or reassurance. How did she do that? Would he ever be able to take care of her so well? 

The doors opened, and there was a rustling sound as people turned to look. A beaming Patterson walked down the aisle, with one woman on each arm. He kissed Catherine on the cheek and seated her on the traditional “bride” side. He kissed Helen and seated her on the “groom” side. Then he took his seat beside his wife, in the pew behind Helen. Richard wondered if there was significance to this. Was sitting on the “groom” side a subtle gesture to indicate that Richard was truly part of the Honoré family? As if he could read Richard’s mind—which seemed a distinct possibility—Patterson smiled at Richard and nodded. 

Richard and his mother exchanged smiles. He truly did not care that his father wasn’t there, but he was happy that his mother could see him get married. Another thing Camille had arranged. He thought back to how she had taken charge that awful night in Blenheim, and how many little things she did to make him happy. 

Fidel smiled as he watched Richard glaze over. He wondered if he should cough or say something to make Richard return to the here and now. But the sound of the organ and the bustle of guests standing took care of that. 

Camille took Fidel’s arm. He placed his hand over hers and whispered, “If you try to run away, I have strict orders to tackle you.”

She squeezed his arm and whispered, “No running, I promise.”

As she entered the church, Camille looked around. So many people who knew and cared for her, so many memories. She blinked back a tear at the sight of Aimee’s mother, then wondered at the Commissioner’s choice to sit on the “groom” side. And then she looked at Richard.

Camille had never seen him look so happy, so relaxed, so confident. She had planned to keep a serene little bridely smile, but she had to grin when he patted his pocket to acknowledge her token. 

When she and Dwayne reached the altar, Father Chevalier said, “Who gives this man and this woman?”

Catherine and Helen stood, moved into the aisle, hugged and said in unison, “We do.”

Dwayne kissed Camille on the cheek and placed her hand in Richard’s. He took her bouquet and set it on the small table that had been set out so that he wouldn’t have to hold it during the ceremony.

“Dearly beloved,” Father Chevalier began. Richard tried to soak in the details, but all he could concentrate on was Camille. They got through the vows and the exchange of rings without any mishap. Camille had to suppress a giggle when she realized they were nearly at the end. Richard looked a bit nervous. Did he really think she would “launch herself,” as he had put it, at him? She was surprised to discover that there was something about the gown and the veil that made her want to behave with decorum. 

“…I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

When they kissed, it was a church-appropriate kiss, if just a wee bit lengthy. Then they were walking down the aisle, smiling and trying not to blink as Greg took pictures. Richard had agreed to the dreaded receiving line at the back of the church. Camille had coached him to say “thank you” when people congratulated him and “yes, I know” when they told him how lucky he was. Sure enough, those two responses covered everything, although he knew he’d never remember who all these people were. 

They stood on the church steps, posing for photos—the whole wedding party, just the couple and the mothers, then just the couple. As Greg changed position to get another shot, Camille said, “Did you really tell Dwayne to tackle me if I bolted?”

“Um, I may have said something to that effect. It’s a pretty long aisle, and you’d have had a good head start if he didn’t stop you.” 

“Smile!” Greg called out, so they looked toward him and smiled. “Just about done. Give me a minute to check that I like what I’ve got.

While they stood together, Richard whispered, “Hey, what was that thing you said last night about me _almost certainly_ getting lucky tonight?”

“I didn’t want you to take me for granted,” Camille smiled sweetly at him. 

“Are you kidding? I was practically panting last night.”

“I know. That was kind of hot. But don’t worry my love, you’re going to get _very_ lucky tonight.” She winked at him, and they both laughed. 

“Great!” Greg said. “I think that’s the shot. Every wedding, there’s a moment that just says it all. And that laugh is going to be it.”

“You took our picture while we were talking about—mmph!”

Camille stopped Richard from saying too much, and Greg took some more pictures. He glanced at the screen. The kissing photos were good, but the laughing shot was better. 

They started on their walk down the hill to La Kaz. Again, Camille had coached Richard. All he had to do was wave and smile. And hold onto Camille.

“Ouch!” she said when they were halfway down the hill. 

“What’s wrong?”

“The coin.” She thrust her bouquet into Richard’s hand and held onto his arm while she stood on one foot. She removed her shoe. Richard could see the problem.

“Ah, the lucky sixpence. Trust Mum to remember that. He took the coin from the shoe and asked, “Am I supposed to kneel down and put your glass slipper on, Cinders?”

“No,” she said as she dropped the shoe and maneuvered her foot into it, “You already know who I am. I’m Camille Therèse Poole.”

“Yes, you are.” And, forgetting the onlookers, Richard kissed her. This time it was not church-appropriate. Hoots and cheers brought him back to reality. Camille laughed when he blushed, and they continued on their walk.


	13. A Bit of a Blur

It was the longest party Richard had ever attended. Catherine closed La Kaz all day for the event. The party started with lunch and drinks in La Kaz. This was limited to family and close friends and was fairly quiet, at least to begin with. The bartender opened several bottles of champagne, and when everyone had a full glass, Catherine called for everyone’s attention.

“I want to thank you all for being here today to celebrate with us. I want to thank Camille for not killing me over all those blind dates I set up over the years.” This comment got her a few chuckles from the crowd and an eye roll from Camille. “And also for putting up with my excitement over the wedding planning. I want to thank Richard for putting up with the fuss that he has endured so far and for the fuss that will follow as the day goes on. I want to thank Helen for traveling all this way to be a part of the celebration. And I want to thank God for giving us this beautiful day for the wedding and for blessing the union of two very special people.”

Catherine lifted her glass and continued, “So raise your glasses and toast to—I can’t believe she’s finally married!”

“Maman!” Camille groaned when her mother squealed that last bit.

“I know how you feel,” Helen raised her glass to Catherine and grinned.

“Mum!” Richard hissed.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Poole!” Catherine finished the toast, which was echoed by the guests. 

From somewhere in the room, there was a sound of clinking glass. The sound grew as more guests found silverware to tap against their glasses.

“What is that about?” Richard asked Camille.

“It’s to make us kiss.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup, a wedding tradition.”

“Who am I to go against tradition?” Richard grinned and kissed Camille, and the guests applauded. 

Catherine and Helen congratulated them again, with more kisses and hugs.

“Maman!” Camille scolded her Catherine, “Did you have to throw in that _finally_ bit?”

“Well, I have been waiting a long time.”

“Oh, Maman, you’re as bad as Richard saying I was the doll with the wonky eye.”

“I never said that,” Richard foolishly waded into the conversation.

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I explained about how someone past their sell-by was like the last doll left, the one with the wonky eye. I never said that was _you._ ”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, you said I said that, but I didn’t.”

From across the room, Fidel and Dwayne compared watches. 

“So how long have they been married?” asked Dwayne. “And they’re fighting already?”

“That isn’t a fight, Dwayne. It’s just what they do,” said Juliet pointing to the embracing couple. “See, now they’re fine.”

As Richard laughed and hugged Camille, he whispered in her ear, “And for the record, not only do I not think you are a doll with a wonky eye, I happen to know that nothing about you is wonky. Although I should probably check you over thoroughly.”

Camille kissed his cheek and said, “Later, Richard. Now we need to circulate.”

Between the consumption of a few glasses of wine and the fact that he knew most of the guests fairly well, Richard was surprisingly comfortable mingling with the guests. Camille had already shed her lace jacket and smiled when Richard took off his jacket and hung it over his chair. He rolled up his sleeves and went to the bar. When he returned to Camille he had a tall glass of something clear.

“That can’t be rum?” she said.

“Oooh, becoming the nagging wife already, are we? It’s water. I want to dilute the champagne.” 

Camille took his glass and drank from it. “Good idea. We should have something to eat.”

“It’s all seafood.”

“No, there are some things that you like. Try this.” Camille picked up a piece of celery and popped it into Richard’s mouth.

“Ohhh, does that really have stilton in it?” Richard sighed in delight.

“Yes, Mum made those and a few other non-seafood things you like. It was pretty funny. She wanted to bring some foods you like, but we checked the rules and there’s a lot you can’t bring in without an import license. But Maman could get the cheese from a supplier.”

“You called her _Mum._ ”

“Yes. It’s what you call her. And you call my mother _Maman_ now, so… Isn’t that okay?”

“Yes, absolutely. It’s just so, I don’t know… so _married_.”

“Well, my love,” Camille said as she tapped Richard’s wedding ring. “We are married.”

-o-o-o-o-

After everyone was seated at the table for lunch, Fidel rose to make his Best Man speech. 

“I would just like to say a few words. Actually, _we_ would,” Fidel said as Dwayne stood up. “I think you all know that when Richard first arrived, he didn’t want to stay. He wasn’t used to working with such limited resources—”

“Or the heat,” Dwayne added.

“He didn’t like waiting for forensics reports,” Fidel continued.

“Or know where to get a good cup of tea.”

“But he kept working, kept searching for evidence.”

“And he arrested Camille.”

“You helped with that, Dwayne!” Richard interrupted, laughing. 

“But he solved that first murder, even though it seemed impossible,” Fidel continued. “And when it was done, he thanked us and said ‘good work team.’ He showed that he respected our efforts. And that’s one of the many things that make him a good leader and mentor.”

“I still remember the day the Commissioner told Camille and the Chief that they would be working together. She told him to go back to London and he told her to go back to Guadeloupe.” Dwayne smiled at the memory, and there were chuckles from guests who had seen Camille and Richard squabble.

“But that didn’t happen,” Fidel said. “They worked together, and became good partners.”

“Sometimes sparring partners,” said Dwayne. “And Fidel and I had ringside seats.”

“Partners became friends, and then lovers. So raise your glasses to the main characters in the most interesting love story Saint Marie has ever seen. Richard and Camille, I wish you long life, health, happiness—”

“And babies!” Catherine called out.

Dwayne held up his glass as guests laughed and Camille glared at her mother. “Richard and Camille!”

“Richard and Camille!” everyone echoed.

Richard stood, a bit nervous. “Thank you, Fidel and Dwayne. I’ll keep this short. I want to echo the _finally,_ sentiment voiced earlier by our mothers. I never thought I’d find someone so special. I’d about given up looking. And _finally,_ a long way from home, in a place I was totally unprepared for, I met the most incredible woman imaginable. The love of my life and my best friend. And now my wife. Thank you all for being here today to celebrate with us.”

The guests applauded as Richard sat down. Camille blinked back tears and kissed him. Then everyone joined hands while the Commissioner said a brief blessing before lunch was served. 

At the end of the meal, Catherine brought out the wedding cake. She handed Camille a knife and said, “You two make the first cut together. It’s good luck.”

They held the knife together and pushed it into the cake. Camille finished cutting the first piece, which she put on a plate. She broke off a piece and fed it to Richard. His eyes watered and he blinked furiously.

After he swallowed the cake he said, “As Chief of Police, I need to make a safety warning. No minors may eat this cake, and if anyone has more than one piece, I will order Fidel to Breathalyze you before you may drive home.”

Then Richard fed a piece to Camille, who said, “Whoo! This will get us all dancing!”

As if on cue, the musicians arrived. Soon, the party had spread across to the patio. Guests were dancing and other friends stopped by for a drink, some wedding cake, and a chance to wish the couple well. Camille took off her veil, but kept the flowers in her hair. 

When she and Richard danced to a slow song, she reminded him of the night of Solly’s funeral. “Remember? We danced for about two seconds, and then the music got faster.”

“I do remember. I was nervous about dancing with you.”

“But you know how to dance.”

“Yes, but I think I was a little afraid of you back then. Afraid if I got too close you’d push me away. And when the music got faster, afraid I’d look like an idiot.”

“So no zouk?” Camille pouted.

“We can zouk later when we’re alone,” Richard said as the song ended. 

The temp of the music picked up, so Camille and Richard left the dance floor. They circulated as a couple for a while, then ended up in separate conversations. While Richard was deep in conversation with some people from the Marine Preserve, Camille danced with Dwayne, then Fidel, and a few other friends. 

“I’m sorry,” said Camille later, as she sank into a chair next to Richard. “I’m not being an attentive bride.”

“It’s all right. I’ll have you all to myself soon enough.”

“I’m looking forward to that. What time is it? Do I need to change now? I don’t want to miss the ferry.”

Richard looked at his watch. “The ferry doesn’t leave for an hour. But if you want to change, I’ll help.”

“It doesn’t take an hour to change clothes.”

“We could make it take an hour.”

“Richard! If we disappear for that long, what will the guests think?”

“That I’m exercising my rights as a husband.”

“Your WHAT? You do know what century we’re in, don’t you?”

“Damn. I shouldn’t have agreed to you not saying _obey._ ”

“Oh, please. Like you would really want to make love in Maman’s apartment? In her bed? Or the bed where you own mother has been sleeping?”

“When you put it that way, I guess I can wait.”

“It will be worth the wait, Reesharrrd,” Camille purred in his ear. “I promise.”

The music slowed down for a change of pace, and Richard held out his hand, “One more turn around the dance floor, Mrs. Poole?”

“Love to, Mr. Poole. Oh, wait. Are we Mr. and Mrs. Poole, or Inspector and Sergeant Poole?” 

“I don’t care as long as we’re both Poole.” Richard pulled Camille into his arms.

The musicians took a break, and Camille decided it was a good time to change out of her wedding gown. She declined Richard’s generous offer of help, and accepted her mother’s offer instead. While they were upstairs in Catherine’s apartment, Helen sat by Richard.

“Thank you for being here, Mum.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I love watching the two of you together. Do you remember when you got Lucy?”

“Of course.”

“The way you looked when you unwrapped it, like it was the best present _ever,_ that’s how you looked when Camille was walking toward you in church, only more so. Like you just got what you wanted your whole life.”

“That’s how I felt. How I feel. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” Richard smiled, “Is that a song?”

“If it isn’t, it certainly could be. Camille will be down soon. Do you have everything you need? Is your case packed? Are you changing clothes before you leave? Where’s your jacket?” 

“Mum! Yes, I’m packed. My last-minute things are in Fidel’s car. The other cases are upstairs. No, I’m not changing, but I will go grab my jacket. Thank you for reminding me about that.” Richard kissed his mother on the cheek and went into La Kaz just as Camille came down in her “going away” outfit.

“You look beautiful,” said Richard. “Is that new?”

Camille did a little twirl in front of him. “Yes, a bride always needs something new for going away.” 

Fidel appeared behind Richard. “I’ve got your small bag. Are the rest of the cases ready? I want to get them down to the ferry in plenty of time.”

“Yes, upstairs.” Richard headed for the stairs with Fidel behind him. 

-o-o-o-o-

Fidel drove the cases and the mothers to the ferry. Camille and Richard chose to walk. Half of Saint Marie seemed to be following them. Environmental laws forbade streamers or confetti at the quay, but out of nowhere, bottles of bubble solution materialized, and they were soon surrounded by bubbles. 

The ferryboat captain blew the horn, so the happy couple hugged their mothers and said goodbye. Once on board, Richard did a quick luggage count, and was relieved to see that they hadn’t forgotten anything. 

Richard and Camille waved as the ferry pulled away from the dock. People were waving and laughing and blowing bubbles. On the ferry, the happy couple watched Saint Marie get smaller and smaller.

They found a quiet spot to sit. Richard sighed.

“Tired?” Camille asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a quick kiss.

“For what?”

“For putting up with the crowd and the noise. You were very gracious.”

“Well, Saint Marie is home now, and they’re part of it. And it was the sort of party you wanted.”

“I hope you enjoyed it, at least a little.”

“To be honest, it’s all a bit of a blur except for the vows and being pronounced husband and wife. Fidel warned me.”

“About what?”

“He said I should pay attention. He said he was so nervous at his wedding that he hardly remembered a thing.”

“Were you nervous?”

“Not about getting married or being married. But walking through town and the reception… all the fuss and the noise. I think it was sensory overload combined with champagne overload. And food overload. Did I actually eat lobster?”

Camille giggled, “Yes. I cut it up for you. The mothers thought it was cute.”

“That must have been at the height—or depth—of champagne consumption.”

“You didn’t seem drunk.”

“No. It was like being on a slow alcohol drip all day, though. And the cake didn’t exactly help on that score. God, I hope I don’t have a hangover tomorrow.”


	14. First Morning

The morning after their wedding, Camille woke to find Richard looking at her.

“Good morning,” she said. “How do you feel? Any hangover?”

He smiled at her, “No, I’m fine. I feel great. I feel married.”

“I know. Maman _finally_ unloaded me.” She pulled a face, screwing up one eye.

“Stop that! Nothing about you is wonky. Don’t think of _finally_ that way. Say that you were waiting for the man of your dreams to come along.”

“Somehow, none of my girlish dreams involved falling in love with a man who would arrest me. Isn’t love funny?” Camille yawned and stretched her arms out. Then she gasped, “Oh, no!

“What’s wrong?”

“My ring!”

“Did you lose it?”

“No. I took it off last night.”

“Do you remember where you put it?”

“In the ring box with the engagement ring.”

“Oh, well that’s all right.”

“But I took it off!” she wailed.

“I don’t understand the problem.”

“I took my _wedding ring_ off.”

“So put it on again.”

“You don’t understand. I was going to wear it all the time. I was _never_ going to take it off.”

“Camille, we’re still married, whether the ring is on your finger or in its box.”

“I know, but it was just a thing I wanted to do to show you how much it means to be married to you. A gesture, you know? That’s why I wanted a plain band. So I could wear it all the time. And I forgot on our first night.”

“Oh, Fleur,” Richard pulled her into his arms. “It’s sweet of you to feel that way. But don’t upset yourself. Would you feel better if I take mine off? I didn’t promise myself to never remove it.”

“But you kept it on last night.”

“Yes, I—okay, this will make you laugh. I wanted to have it on when I woke this morning so that I’d know it really happened, that we really are married. That it wasn’t a dream.”

Camille smiled and reached for the ring box. She put on her rings and said, “Looks real to me. And I’d like to prove to you how real, but we have a plane to catch this morning.”

Richard groaned, “Why does the only flight to Barbados have to be so early in the morning?”

“Think positive. It will get us there sooner. And thank Bowman for getting the conference to pick up the cost of our tickets. I didn’t realize how expensive this flight would be when I booked the chattel house. Bowman said to think of it as a wedding present.”

Richard sat up suddenly and said, “Oh, no!”

“What?”

“Wedding present.”

“Which one?”

“Yours. You arranged for my book cases and for Mum to fly out and I didn’t even remember your present.”

“It’s all right, Richard. I don’t need a present.”

“No, I got one for you, but I forgot to give it to you yesterday. God, I’m hopeless!”

“Save it for when we get to Barbados. It can be a 24-hour anniversary present.” Camille kissed Richard and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not upset. I’m sure you’ll find bigger ways to annoy me.”

“It does seem to be my signature trait.”

Camille ruffled his hair and got out of bed. “Time to get dressed.”

Richard groaned again.

-o-o-o-o-

“It’s awfully wrinkled,” Richard said as Camille smoothed his suit and added it to the garment bag.

“We can send it out to be pressed or steamed when we get there.”

“Hey, is that your Paris LBD in the bag?” Richard asked, feeling smug that he’d learned a little about women’s fashion.

“Yes, it’s for the dinner at the conference. I wanted to impress the bankers that your wife isn’t some Caribbean beach bunny.”

“Are you worried about that?”

“They’re bankers, Richard. Probably older, and old school. Mostly men, mostly white, with the perfect corporate wife or, in some cases, the younger trophy wife. I want to look good enough for you.”

“You’re joking! They’ll take one look at you and wonder how I got so lucky. Hell, I still wonder about that sometimes.”

“But you aren’t the one with the wonky eye.” She pulled the face again.

“Stop doing that! Anyway, I was on the shelf a lot longer than you were. Languishing, waiting for the girl of my dreams.”

“Aww, am I really the girl of your dreams?”

In a rare moment of self-censorship, Richard he did not say that he once saw her as the girl of his nightmares. Instead he answered, “Of course you are. But the reality is even better than the dreams.”

Camille kissed him, and Richard cursed the airline that had schedule such an early flight.

-o-o-o-o-

The airport was the usual hell, although their police credentials got them through security a little faster. The plane was very small, so they were able to gate-check their cases. Richard stood and watched them loaded into the plane.

“There,” said Camille, as she buckled her seat belt. “They won’t lose them this time,”

“They’ll find a way,” Richard grumbled. 

Camille dozed with her head on Richard’s shoulder for most of the flight. He alternated between looking out the window and reading a Barbados guidebook he’d sneaked onto the plane. Camille had grumbled when he bought the book, saying they could make things up as they went along. He understood that a honeymoon should be spontaneous, but he couldn’t shake that detective’s need to know.

They landed smoothly and on time. Camille giggled when she felt Richard relax at the sight of their cases being unloaded. 

“Told you!” she whispered. He made a little harrumphing noise, but said nothing.

They collected their rental car and drove to the resort. 

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” asked Camille as Richard deftly navigated a roundabout.

“It’s a nice car, if that’s what you mean.”

“You know what I mean. Driving on the left. I suppose our driving on the right goes back to when Saint Marie was French.”

“Camille, on Saint Marie, people drive on whichever side they feel like. No, wait. That’s wrong. They tend to drive right down the middle. When they aren’t swerving to avoid potholes, that is.”

As he drove, Richard gave Camille a running commentary on the island. He pointed out the road to Bridgetown, the capital and main port, and launched into a discussion of the government. He pointed out the resort where the conference would take place. Camille smiled. He must have memorized that travel guide!

A few kilometers more and he found the drive into the Plantation Resort. The drive wound through trees, gardens, and a golf course. He took the turn marked “Main House” and stopped in front of what had likely once been the home of a plantation owner.

“It’s beautiful,” said Camille. “Reminds me of the plantations on Saint Marie.” 

“There are still some active sugar plantations on Barbados, but not as many as there once were. There’s a preserved plantation that’s a museum. We should visit it. After all, you know where the sugar goes.”

“Mmm, rhum agricole!”

The entered the building and found the check-in desk. They were welcomed and congratulated. (Camille had told them it was their honeymoon when she made the reservation.) They were given keys, all manner of paperwork, and were handed over to a bellman.

“Welcome, and congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Poole. I’m Ben, one of the bellmen here. We are delighted to have you spending your honeymoon with us. Your chattel house is very popular with honeymoon couples. Quiet, secluded, and near the beach. You can’t park at your house, so you will need to park in the lot over there. I’ll follow you and get your luggage.”

Richard moved the car and Ben followed in a golf cart. He transferred their cases from the car to the cart and said, “Ready? Then hop on!”

The way he said that reminded Richard of Dwayne, which was not a good thing, as it made him think about the way Dwayne drove. But Camille gave Richard a look, the kind that would lead to a snap-point, so he got on the cart. He had to stifle a laugh when it occurred to him that perhaps he was the one who had vowed to obey.

The path was smooth and, fortunately, Ben did not drive like a lunatic. 

“Do you know the history of the chattel houses?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Camille. “They were movable houses used by plantation workers.”

“Right,” Ben nodded. “When this plantation closed down, there were still a few chattel houses on the property. When it was developed as a resort, many of the fields became the golf course, the new hotel building, and the parking areas. The developers realized the value of the chattel houses, so most of them were kept in their original locations. Well, as original as we know, since they were movable.”

“Isn’t it unusual for one to be so close to the beach?” Richard asked.

“A good question, sir. It is an unusual location, but this is one the developers had to move. It would have been in the middle of the golf course, not a good place for a house. So if it had to be moved, why not put it somewhere special. See?” He pointed to the view of the sea as he stopped the cart at the house.

“Ohhh,” Camille sighed. “The photos on the website didn’t do justice to it.”

Richard started to laugh, and Camille gave him a “what?” look. He waved her off and mouthed “tell you later.”

Ben took their key and unlocked the front door. He pointed out various amenities in the house and gave them a tour of the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and said, “We’ve stocked it with the basics so you can fix your own breakfast here. Of course you may certainly breakfast at the main house or call room service, but most people in the chattel houses like to be on their own in the mornings. Everything in the fridge is complimentary. Yes, the beer and wines, too, per your preferences on the reservation. Your information packet gives the hours of the restaurant, café, pool bar, golf course, and so on. Room service menu is on the table, directory by the phone. Please do not hesitate to call the front desk or concierge if you need anything. I’ll get your cases while you have a look around.” 

Camille explored the house while Richard leafed through the information packet. He quickly removed the brochures about parasailing and dirt bikes. Camille was crazy enough to want to try those. He also considered hiding the brochures about snorkeling, but Camille had already said she wanted to do that, so might as well let her see those. 

“Bed’s comfortable,” she called from the bedroom. “Nice shower, too.”

“That’s good.

Ben returned with the cases. He hung the garment bag in the closet and set one of the cases on a luggage rack. 

“If there’s nothing else I can do, I’ll leave you to unpack. It’s a pleasant walk, but if you want a ride to the main house or your car, just hit the phone button for the bellstaff and someone will be here as soon as possible. Enjoy your stay.”

After Ben left, Camille asked Richard what had made him start to laugh.

“You don’t see the irony? We’ve traveled all this way, and we’re spending a lot of money to stay in a tiny house at the beach.”

“Yes, so?”

“Camille, would you care to describe where I live?”

“In a little shack at… oh. But this one has an advantage. Several, actually.”

“Such as?”

“Better kitchen, much better bath. Room service if we want it. And best of all, it’s a few hundred kilometers from anyone we know, like our mothers.”

“Speaking of our mothers, we should let them know we arrived safely. Should I call or will you?”

“Don’t call. Maman will ask if I’m pregnant yet and your mother will want to ask if you remembered to pack your toothbrush.” said Camille. “I’ll text them both.”

“Didn’t you explain to your mother that we’re waiting a year?”

“Yes, but she can’t stop herself.”

“Oh, God, the two of them together for a whole week. I may never want to go back.”

While Camille sent her texts, Richard turned his mobile on to check for messages or texts. Sure enough, there was a message from his mother. 

_“Hello, Richard. I know you’ve probably got your mobile turned off, but I wanted to wish you a happy week. Did you remember to carry Camille over the threshold? And did she remember to save the sixpence? We don’t make them anymore, you know, and your daughter may want to have it in her shoe when she gets married. Oops! I’m not supposed to nag about that, am I? Catherine says hello. Love to Camille, bye now!”_

Camille looked at Richard, who was staring at his mobile. 

“Something wrong?”

“Sort of. Another thing I forgot.”

“Not your toothbrush, I know you have that.”

“No. I didn’t carry you over the threshold. Mum asked. In her message, I mean. She was kind of rambling. I think she and your mother were having another slice or six of wedding cake.”

“Oh, dear. I got a text from Maman that the party went on until the wee hours.”

“So what about the threshold? Should we go outside so I can carry you in?”

Camille put her arms around Richard’s neck and said, “Just carry me into the bedroom.”

-o-o-o-o-

“We should unpack,” Camille said as she stretched. 

“Now? I thought I might have a nap.”

“You’re sleepy?”

“You know I get drowsy after. You’re wide awake because you slept on the plane.”

“Okay, take your nap. I’ll unpack.”

Camille dressed and puttered around the bedroom while Richard slept. After she unpacked her case and took the clothes out of the garment bag, she looked at his case. Should she unpack for him? While she was deliberating, she heard a sound from the living room. She walked to the front door and saw that an envelope had been slipped under the door. She smiled when she read “Mr. and Mrs. Poole” on the front. She was about to open it when Richard called her.

“Camille?”

“In the living room,” she said, as she walked to the bedroom. “We have mail. Look, our first piece of mail addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Poole.”

“What’s in it?”

“I didn’t open it yet. It’s addressed to both of us. Shouldn’t we open it together?” She sat on the bed and held out the envelope.

“I hereby give you my proxy to open any mail that is addressed to both of us.”

Camille carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Oh! Look at this. It’s a gift certificate for dinner at the Main House Restaurant. From Maman and Mum.”

“That’s nice. I suppose I should unpack.” Richard got up and started to dress.

“Wear your shorts. This is what you bought them for.”

“What are we going to do today?”

“What do you think?” Camille laughed. “It is the first day of our honeymoon.”

“In between, um, you know, do you think we could have something to eat? It’s past lunchtime.”

“I’ll see what’s in the fridge.”

Camille was slicing fruit when Richard walked into the kitchen. She smiled when she saw he was wearing the shorts she’d talked him into buying.

“Very nice. How about fruit and cheese and bread for lunch?”

“Sounds good. I found your wedding present.” Richard held out a small box.

Camille tore off the silvery paper and opened the box. She held up the bracelet and said, “Oh, my! It’s so pretty!”

She set it on the table and looked at the silver charms on the bracelet.

“I know you don’t wear a lot of jewelry, which makes sense considering your job. But I liked the idea of assembling tokens of things that were significant in our relationship,” Richard explained.

“That’s such a lovely idea. You gave this a lot of thought, didn’t you? That is so sweet!” Camille touched each charm. “What? Is that a goat?”

“I wanted something from when we met. The first time we met, you were pretending to be a cleaner and crying. But there are no Kleenex charms. The second time we met, I arrested you. I thought about handcuffs, but I was afraid that might be misinterpreted as kinky if someone looks at your bracelet. Then I remembered the goat. And I thought it was cute, a private joke because only a few of us know you shared a cell with a goat.”

“Uh huh. Only you, me, Dwayne, Fidel, and all of SOCA.”

“Oh, right, we did tell that story, didn’t we? Well, there’s also the goat you tried to name after me. Look at the other charms.”

“Let’s see. Big Ben for London. Oh! A crown—”

“For my queen of hearts.”

“A duckie. For the night we were stranded in the storm?” She asked, and he nodded. “A little engagement ring, and a flower. Oh, it’s a camellia.”

“And there’s plenty of room to add more charms to commemorate events in our lives.”

“Yes, like going parasailing!” She held up a brochure. “I found it in the bin.”

Richard groaned and slumped forward with his head on the table.


	15. Adventure

Richard and Camille had made a pact that they would check email and messages every morning after breakfast, and keep their mobiles turned off after that. 

“Nothing from Mum,” said Richard. “Does Maman have anything to say?”

“Just a brief email to say that everyone loved the party and wish us all a happy time. Your mother is feeling a little tired after the late night. I think that’s Maman’s euphemism for hung over.”

“Mum isn’t much of a drinker, and God knows how much she drank after we left. Remember, I did say she rambled in the message she left. She’s probably still sleeping it off.”

“I’m going to send Maman the picture I took of last night’s sunset. Do you have anything you want to add to the message?”

“No, I just sent an email to Mum saying we’re fine. And I told her where my important papers are in case I drown or get the bends today.”

“Richard! You are NOT going to drown. They’ll give you a safety vest to wear. And it’s only snorkeling. You know that you can’t get the bends snorkeling. You told me that you know how to swim.”

“In a pool, where there are no creatures.”

“You waded a bit yesterday afternoon and survived. I did a lot of research on this. These guys run a small boat, so there won’t be a lot of people. And they have a reputation for being good with novices.”

Richard sighed, “I can’t believe I agreed to this. It wasn’t fair of you to talk me into it when we were in bed. I was in a haze of satisfaction, not really thinking.”

Camille giggled, “I know. That’s one of the tricks of husband management.”

“How do you know that? Is this advice you got from your mother? It can’t have come from mine. I don’t think Mum has ever talked Dad into anything, post-coitally or otherwise.”

“Oh, my love, women are born knowing this stuff. It’s like cats and dogs. Puppies don’t know anything and you have to teach them everything. Kittens are born knowing everything and they train you.”

“So you’re the kitten and I’m the puppy? I’m being trained?”

“Of course! And remember, most training is reward-based.” Despite the small size of the kitchen chairs, Camille moved to sit in Richard’s lap. She kissed him thoroughly to demonstrate the training process. 

“Camille! If you think you can lead me around by my—”

She kissed him again, shifted position slightly and gave him a feline smile, “Ah, but I think I can.”

-o-o-o-o-

While they waited by the main house for the snorkel tour to pick them up, Camille said, “I feel naked.”

“Well, that bikini doesn’t cover much, and the shirt isn’t exactly opaque.”

“I’ll put my swimshirt on when it’s time. I was talking about my rings.”

“I thought once you got over removing it the first night, you were okay with taking it off.”

“I am. I think it’s snug enough to stay on, but I didn’t want to take any chances. One of the bride magazines had an article about honeymoon mistakes, and you wouldn’t believe how many people lose rings swimming or diving. I’d hate to ruin the trip by losing my ring.”

The minibus pulled up and the driver greeted them. He took Camille’s beach bag and asked, “Any valuables? Anything that can’t get wet?”

“No, just the usual stuff—towels, hats, a gallon of sunscreen. I’ve got a small drybag with anything important in it.”

“Great, you’re my last pickup. It’s just four of you today, so you’re getting almost a private trip.”

The driver introduced them to the other couple, young American honeymooners Steve and Kitty, and they set off for the dock. At the boat, they signed waivers. Only Richard felt the need to read every word.

“Just sign!” Camille hissed, holding out the pen. 

“More training?” he asked, as he signed.

“Yes, and I’ve got a reward for you.” Camille dug into her beach bag and pulled out a small camera.

“Shouldn’t that be in the dry bag?”

“Nope. It’s waterproof.”

“When did you get that?”

“I’ve had it for a few years. I sent it out to have the seals replaced, so it’s good to 10 meters. Taking pictures is a good way to learn to relax and enjoy snorkeling.”

Before they boarded the boat the Dive Master, Dave, asked about snorkeling experience. Of the four, only Camille had snorkeled before, so he explained all about the gear, then helped them find fins and masks that fit. 

On the boat, they donned floatation vests and the driver set out for their first stop. Dave explained the vests.

“The vests don’t need to be inflated. In fact, you’re better off without having them fully inflated. Remember, you’re more buoyant in salt water, so that will help you float. Most people just puff a bit of air into the vest using the tube. If you get into trouble, like you fall off the boat and panic, you can pull the cord for a quick inflation. Please limit this to emergencies, as it isn’t comfortable to snorkel fully inflated.” He gestured with his hands in front of his chest. “They don’t call these Mae Wests for nothing, you know. Although these days, I don’t know if people get the reference. My driver says they should be called Dolly Partons.”

They all practiced blowing into the tubes, and Dave nodded when they had typical inflation.

“That’s good. You’re unlikely to need more than that. You’ll be able to tell better when you’re in the water. We also have floatation pads that you can put under your body if you’re dragging your back end too low. Not needed, but some people get confidence from that. Remember, you’re going to be on the surface, never far from air. It’s best to stay horizontal, and not keep coming up for air. If you don’t seal your lips tightly on the snorkel, it will take on water. Just give a hard cough-like exhalation and blow it out. That’s much better than going vertical and taking the snorkel out of your mouth to clear it. Okay, that’s the basics. I’ll go over whatever else you need when we get to the site. Sit back, enjoy the ride. Drinks are complimentary. Only nonalcoholic until we’re done diving.”

When Dave went forward to talk to the driver, Steve wondered why they couldn’t have a longer snorkel to go deeper.

“Water pressure,” Richard answered. “Even a few feet down, there’s enough pressure on your chest that you can’t expand enough to lower the internal pressure to allow air to flow in.”

Seeing that the man looked confused, Camille sighed and said, “The pressure pushes on your chest so much that you can’t—” she took a deep breath, “and suck in air.”

“There’s no such thing as suction, Camille,” Richard corrected. “There’s only higher pressure pushing from elsewhere. It’s the pressure differential when you expand the chest cavity that—”

Camille put her fingers over Richard’s lips and said, “TMI.”

“But—”

“Do you want to have a chance to find out if that panic cord works?”

“Not really.”

They all laughed, and Kitty said, “You sound like you’ve been married a long time, but, um…”

“No rings?” Camille asked. “We left them at the hotel. You should probably take yours off before you go in the water.”

“Oh! I’m never taking off my wedding ring.”

Richard snorted and Camille shushed him. 

“Don’t mind him. It’s just that I said the same thing, and then the first night I took it off without even thinking about it. And we’re still married, so I guess it was okay.”

“So how long have you been married?”

“What time is it?” Richard asked, looking at Camille’s watch. “Two days, three hours, and I’m not sure how many minutes.”

“Really? Wow, you seem like you’ve been married for a lot longer than that.”

“Yeah, well, we were on the shelf for a long time. It’s tough when you’ve got a wonky—”

“Would you please stop that!” Richard interrupted Camille.

“You were one who said it.”

“I never meant _you_ had a wonky eye. And don’t pull that face again.” 

They stopped mid-argument and laughed, and Kitty said, “That’s what I mean. You talk in your own code, private jokes.”

“We’ve been together for quite a while, so we do have that history,” Camille replied. “And bickering is our main form of communication. Has been from day one, really.”

The boat stopped a short distance from the shoreline, near a coral reef. The driver lowered a small platform at the back of the boat, and Dave showed them how to sit on the edge, put on their fins, and slip into the water. Once they were in the water, he told them to just relax and tread a little.

“Don’t flail! You need very little fin action. Same thing with swimming. We aren’t racing. Remember you’ve got the salt water and the vest to help you float and the fins to give you motion. The key is being relaxed. We’re going to start out swimming along the reef. If anyone has a problem, just go vertical and call me. Stick with your partner, remember this is a buddy sport. Okay? Put your masks into place, lower your face onto the water, and practice breathing through the snorkel. Give it a minute or so, and if you’re uncomfortable, raise your head out of the water and I’ll help you.”

Camille had told Richard to think of floating as lying on a bed. If the body is relaxed, it’s going to float. So he put his face in the water, and allowed his feet to drift up. He saw Camille’s hand in front of him, giving the OK sign to see if he was all right. He had to remind himself NOT to talk, and he made the OK sign to tell her he was fine. 

“Okay, let’s go.” Dave set out slowly. 

Richard swam alongside Camille. After about 20 meters, Dave stopped and pointed to a school of small fish, and they stopped swimming and just watched the fish. Camille patted Richard’s vest, where he had tucked the camera. She pointed toward the reef. Richard took out the camera, turned it on, and took a photo. He showed it to Camille, who gave him the OK sign. Richard took several pictures. Camille’s snorkel started to leak when she smiled. The camera had made Richard forget his concerns about being in the water. 

They swam a little farther, then stopped to look at more fish. When Dave signaled to turn around, Camille glanced at her watch. They’d been in the water for over a half hour. When they got back to the boat, Dave stayed in the water as each guest removed fins, handed them to the driver, and then climbed the ladder. Dave was the last to board the boat.

“Okay, so how was it?” he grinned as the four guests all responded enthusiastically. Richard asked if they had any fish identification books, and Camille rolled her eyes. There was that need to know again. Dave handed him a plastic card with pictures of fish on it.

“You may take this in the water with you. I don’t like to give them out at the first site. I want you to be comfortable in the water before you start carrying things around. May I see your pictures?”

“The camera is still soaking,” said Camille, pointing to the bag she had filled with bottled water. “That’s how you clean it, just plunk it in clean water. It’s best to clean it each time, even if it’s going to be used again right away.”

Steve asked Camille for more information about the camera, and a discussion of underwater cameras ensued.

“Hey,” said Kitty, “Did you hear about the octopus that stole a diver’s camera?”

“Yes, I saw it on the Internet,” Camille replied. “They’re fascinating animals.”

“Very intelligent, more so than other mollusks,” said Richard.

“But not smart enough to use a camera.”

“No, but smart enough to have curiosity.”

“You might get to see Jake at the next stop,” said Dave. “That’s an octopus that likes to hang out there. Lots of good hidey holes in a wreck.”

Soon they were in the water again. Dave had warned them that farther out from land, the water would be a bit “bouncier” so they should get used to that. As long as they were over the wreck, they’d be close enough to the boat. If anyone wandered too far off, the driver, who could see everyone from the boat, would blow a whistle to get their attention.

Again, Richard enjoyed taking pictures. Suddenly, Camille went vertical and pulled on him.

“Are you all right?” he asked as soon as the snorkel was out of his mouth.

“Fine. But I want some closer pictures. Do you want to try to dive?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to do that.”

“Okay, then give me the camera, and I’ll do it.”

They carefully unlooped the camera strap from Richard’s vest and transferred it to Camille’s. Dave swam over to them.

“You okay?”

“Yes, fine. I’m going to dive and I wanted the camera,” said Camille.

“You’ve done this before, right?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“All right, I’ll watch you the first time, just in case.” 

Richard was impressed at the way Camille folded her body and extended her legs up, sending her downward. When she surfaced, she kept her head in the water, and blew out her snorkel. She gave the men the OK sign, caught her breath, and dove again. Richard wished he had a second camera to get a picture of Camille diving. She moved so effortlessly in the water, like a mermaid. 

Then Dave called them all together. “OK, ready for a little excitement? Camille, get the camera ready.”

He called to the driver, who tossed a plastic bag to him. Dave poured crushed potato chips into the water, and the fish went crazy. Camille gave up trying to frame and just kept went with the paparazzi method of taking lots of shots and hoping for the best. 

As they were climbing into the boat, Richard said, “Is it all right to feed them potato chips?”

Dave nodded. “It’s probably as good nutritionally as the flakes you put in a goldfish bowl. Anyhow, each fish doesn’t get that much, so they will still feed on their natural food. The thing is, the fish that hang out around the dive site are used to being fed. That’s why they don’t swim away from us. They wait for it, and when the food hits the water, they’re all over it.”

“Now I understand the concept of a feeding frenzy.”

When they were back in the boat, Dave handed out bottles of water and reminded everyone that, despite having been in the water, they should think about hydration. He also offered some snacks.

Richard pushed his sleeve up and poked at his skin. “I hope this thing works.”

“Is that a sunblock shirt?” Dave asked. “They really do work. But you should remember to freshen the sunscreen on your neck and legs before you go into the water again.”

The boat offered plenty of shade, so they relaxed and enjoyed the ride to the next stop.

“Okay, turtle time!” said Dave. “Just a few things to know. I will throw some food into the water to attract the turtles. We do not hand feed them, as we don’t want them to become that familiar with people or to become too inquisitive, poking at people’s hands. Turtles don’t have teeth, but they do have sharp beaks. Don’t offer them your fingers, but you may touch their shells and flippers. Be gentle, don’t grab them. Remember they’re wild creatures, and they should always feel free to swim away.”

Richard and Camille looked over the side of the boat to see if there were turtles nearby. 

“Oh! There’s one!” Camille cried. 

“Then there will probably be more nearby.” Dave threw the chopped fish into the water as everyone began to gather equipment and get ready to enter the water.

“Oh, will the fish attract sharks?” asked Kitty.

“Nope. We don’t have any of those naughty fish. Oh, forgot to say. If possible, do this stop without your flippers. That makes you less likely to hurt the turtles if you kick them or they bump into your feet.”

They snorkeled for a while, then Richard pushed his mask up and just treaded water and watched the turtles that way. Camille did the same. 

“Did you get good pictures?”

“I think so. Take the camera and see what you can get.”

So Camille took the camera, held it under water and took pictures that way. “Omigod! That one swam right at me. The face filled the frame. Aren’t they beautiful? When they swim it’s like they’re flying.”

“Hey, Camille,” Dave said, “Give me your camera and we’ll get some pictures of the two of you in the water with the turtles.”

They posed for pictures, and soon it was time to return to the boat. Dave collected and stowed the snorkels and masks, then offered refreshments.

“What’s in Bajan punch?” Richard asked warily.

“Mostly rum and lime juice.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t like rum?”

“I don’t mind rum, I’m not fond of lime.”

“We have orange-pineapple juice, I can make a cocktail out of that. Or we have beer.”

“Beer’s great, thanks.”

So Richard had beer and the others had punch. Camille declared it as good as her mother’s rum punch. 

“What’s the tang in it?” she asked. “Bitters?”

“Yes, you have a good palate,” said Dave.

“My mother runs a bar, so I knew the taste of most ingredients.” Camille answered questions about La Kaz and Saint Marie while they ate lunch and relaxed on the boat. 

-o-o-o-o-

They waved goodbye to the driver and walked to their little house.

“So, you liked that, didn’t you?” Camille said, grinning.

“Absolutely bloody fantastic! I can’t believe I spent so much time in the sea. You are very clever, Camille, letting me use your camera. I got so wrapped up in that, I forgot that I might drown or be eaten by a shark.”

“No sharks here, didn’t you hear Dave say that?”

“I do know that, but you know me, always that general anxiety over new things.”

“I’m proud of you, Richard. You did really well.”

“I think as part of my training, I’m supposed to get a reward.”

“Yes, you are. I think we should start in the shower. I need to wash the salt water out of my hair.”

-o-o-o-o-

After rewarding Richard, Camille fell asleep. Richard dozed for a while, then slipped out of bed. When Camille woke, he was sitting at the kitchen table, at his computer.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at the pictures. Come see.”

Camille pulled on a large t-shirt and walked to the kitchen. “Ooh, before I do that, I’m going to put some aloe cream on your neck. You’ve got a bit of sunburn there. Let me see your face.”

He turned to face her. She ran her finer along his cheek, then kissed him. “No sunburn, but you’re freckling a bit. I like it. Makes you look boyish, less serious.”

After Richard’s sunburn was treated, they looked at the pictures. About half had to be deleted. Nobody really wants to look at what Camille called the south end of a fish swimming north. 

Richard stopped at one of the shots Camille had taken at the wreck. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yup. It’s Jake. Found him on my third dive.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t feel up to diving, and I didn’t want to stir up a fuss. They’re shy creatures, and if he was cozy in his little niche, I didn’t want to frighten him. At least you get to see the pictures.”

“You’re right. It’s good you let him be. But that’s an amazing shot considering you were just down there holding your breath. I meant to ask, can you scuba dive?”

“I used to, but my certification is out of date. Do you want to take scuba lessons?”

“I don’t think so. Snorkeling will be fine, at least for now. I think my training needs to go in small steps.”

“What? You’ve got that worried look.”

“Are you going to start up about parasailing again?”

Camille laughed, “Oh, Love, haven’t you figured that out? Parasailing was just a throwaway to get you to agree to snorkeling.”


End file.
